Date with an Executioner
by Cid62
Summary: Severus Snape's former associates get their revenge. This updated version is now book canon-compliant. Rated M with good reason! Features Lucius Malfoy and Walden Macnair...very DE/Slyther-centric. Reviews VERY welcome! Part II of a trilogy. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1 - Yule Greetings

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. This is Part 2 in a trilogy-read Dark Redemption first, then start here.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER**

**Chapter 1 – Yule Greetings**

The streets of Hogsmeade were packed with throngs of people doing their last minute Christmas and Yule shopping. I thought I had even seen what looked like a menorah twinkling away from the window of one of the houses down the street. Wizarding society in England was quite tolerant of diverse religious practices, if not tolerant in other ways. I recalled, with fondness, Professor Sprout telling me that her family had been Druids for hundreds of years.

"And furthermore, that wicker man business is a bunch of stuff and nonsense, Rowan!" she had said, stamping her foot to add emphasis. "No human sacrifices were ever done in those ceremonies; those damned Romans thought everyone was as barbaric as they were," she continued, as she sprayed water onto a parched-looking plant from the end of her wand. We had been up at one of her greenhouses at Hogwarts early in the fall, right after term had begun. I had been there taking her orders for the new store—the Hogsmeade branch of the Apothecary, where I was presently standing, staring blankly out the window instead of at the contents of a box that was not going to unpack itself. I saw several Hogwarts students through the window with bags from Gladrags Wizardwear, undoubtedly containing their new finery for tomorrow night's Yule Ball.

With a sigh, I glared down at the tightly packed jars. I had no desire to be here today doing this—I had no desire to be here at all, in fact.

And it was a damn shame, I thought, as, rubbing at a crick in my neck, I looked up at my tidy little shop. It wasn't a bad place, really. Seasonal accoutrements—mulling and wassailing spices, frankincense and myrrh, mistletoe, holly, and bayberries—were stacked prominently by the front door on a burnished golden table. Come to think of it, they looked as if they could use a little restocking. The crowds of earlier that day had dwindled down to one lady—an aged witch rummaging through the mandrakes in the back as if the fate of the world hinged on her choosing the correct one. I figured she could do so on her own, and turned toward the counter.

"Morgaine, could you come here, please?" The fifty-something, flighty-haired shop assistant scurried over. She always seemed intimidated. The other assistant, a young man named Ruthven, was not coming in today until later. He had requested evening hours only, and I was glad to accommodate him, as I dreaded closing down the shop by myself, as I had nothing to do in the evenings any more.

"Yes, Mrs. Haw—" she started to say, but I cut her off.

"Morgaine. For the last time, my name is Rowan. Please refer to me as such." I hated the acrid, clipped tones that dripped from my mouth, but I seemed to have lost the ability to speak in any other fashion lately. And furthermore, she was wrong, nagged my mind, if she was going to give me an honorific title, she might as well use the proper one…

I cut that thought off abruptly, and began again.

"I'm sorry," I began, "I didn't mean to snap at you." Morgaine looked amazed, but I forged on. Had I really become that rude over the past few months? "Anyway…this box. Would you please unpack it, price the contents, and shelve them? Thank you." I turned away, secure in the knowledge that the task would be done perfectly. Flighty or not, Morgaine was an able assistant.

The box had arrived that morning through the Floo Network from Ambrosius, my old boss at the London Apothecary, and I wasn't sure why, as I didn't recall ordering anything from him that week. However, my memory had been seriously impaired in recent months. I refused to take anything for the affliction, either, even though we had hundreds of pre-made remedies in easy access on the shelves, and I was more than capable of brewing one myself.

But I was extremely stubborn; and I wasn't going anywhere near a potion or a cauldron by choice. It was bad enough just being around the raw materials, really. Lately, I had been procuring most of my remedies from Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks—she never asked me any difficult questions.

I headed toward the back of the store, intent on gathering more holly and bayberry. When I returned with a basketful of the fragrant items, Morgaine was holding up one of the jars from the box and giving it a quizzical look.

"Er…Mrs., I mean, Rowan, do you know what's supposed to be in this order? I can't read the writing on the jars!"

I heard the bell ring behind me, signaling the entrance of a customer. I figured whoever it was could be on their own for a while. Nobody dared to shoplift from the Apothecary. Everyone knew who owned it.

Damn Ambrosius, I thought, his handwriting still sucks. My stomach lurched for some unaccountable reason, and I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. Morgaine was forging on, unaware of my discomfiture. "It looks like it says, powdered root of…well, something or other. I can't shelve it properly if I can't read it," she continued, with a frown, holding the jar in my general direction. I sat the basket down, walked over toward her, and took the jar, very reluctantly.

Oh Gods.

"Put it in the back!" I yelled suddenly, thrusting the jar back at her. The aged witch, startled, turned and looked at us, two mandrakes in her withered hands. I wanted to give her both of them on the house so she'd leave. I didn't see the other customer, and I didn't care, either.

"But…" Morgaine looked completely puzzled, but she took the jar. She was used to my erratic behavior by now. "I don't understand, is this not our order, or…oh…" she let her voice drift off absently, but this was regular behavior from her. I didn't have the patience for it today.

"This order isn't for us," I said, looking down and gesturing toward the box. I'd deal with Ambrosius later. "Put it out with the rest of the trash. Then, would you please restock this holly and…"

I let the sentence drift off as I stared at Morgaine. Her face had gone white as she clutched the jar. She hadn't been spacing out; she was staring at the customer who had just come in. I heard the click of approaching boot heels on the hardwood floor, and my heart sank.

"That order is not to go in the rubbish, as I believe it's mine, Morgaine," said Severus. He reached over and plucked the jar out of her hands.

"Professor!" said Morgaine. "I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't see you come in," she said, and scurried away toward the back of the store to help the extremely confused witch with her mandrake selection.

"Ambrosius didn't tell me that _you_ had ordered anything," I muttered angrily to him, making sure that neither Morgaine nor the customer could hear, as I pulled out my wand, moved the jar from his hand into the box, sealed the top of the box, and levitated it toward Severus. "Christmas rush, I suppose? Lots of festive Death Eater seductions at this time of year? A little extra something in your female students' wassail bowls, perhaps?" Not waiting for his reply, I walked over and gestured at Morgaine. "I'm leaving, Morgaine, tell Ruthven to close up tonight. You know where to reach me if you need me. Happy Yule."

I strode toward the back of the store, leaving Severus with the box floating in the air beside him. In the office, I had just begun to put on my cloak when I felt hands on my shoulders, assisting me.

"I don't need or want your help, Professor Snape. I can't tell you to leave the store, as you own it. However, I happen to know that I am not behind in my lease payments, and I haven't received any other unsolicited orders of lust potion ingredients, so we have nothing to discuss. Happy Yule, and good evening." I jerked my cloak (which, to my chagrin, was dark green, with a silver serpent-shaped clasp) out of his grasp and reached for the door handle.

"Those are not lust potion ingredients," he said quietly. "Please talk to me, Rowan." He put his hand over mine, as if to stop me from leaving.

"I don't have anything to say to you, Professor." I wrenched my hand out from under his, and turned to walk back out towards the front of the store. "Why don't you just leave; I'm sure the virgin sacrifices are anxious for your arrival. Or maybe Macnair needs help sharpening something," I added.

"Rowan. You promised Albus that you would at least be civil to me." Severus looked down at the floor when he said this. One of his hands was jammed into his cloak pocket, and one was idly twisting the material of his long, black, hand-knitted scarf. I felt guilty when I saw the scarf; he had given me a matching one in Slytherin colors (for wearing at Quidditch matches), which I had burned last week.

"I did, didn't I," I replied, reaching over and closing the door to the shop. And I had to keep my promises, I thought, it was against my religion to do any differently. "OK. Sorry. I take back all the Death Eater stuff. Have a happy Yule. See ya. Wouldn't want to be ya," and I attempted to open the back door for a second time, again unsuccessfully.

I scowled at Severus, who looked a bit taken aback, but cleared his throat, and said, "Rowan, we were supposed to attend the Yule Ball tomorrow evening. You had been looking forward to it. Will you at least consider—"

"No. Take one of your students, or go with Albus. I'm leaving tomorrow, anyway, for Massachusetts."

"WHAT?" he said.

"I don't have to inform you of my comings and goings, Professor. Now if you will please excuse me?" I started to open the door, but spotted the offending delivery sitting next to Severus. "Oh, and don't forget your jar of…whatever it is."

"It is asphodel, and you know perfectly well what that is. You also know perfectly well that it is not used in lust potions, but in sleeping potions. I've been using rather a lot of it lately," he added, looking at me with an impenetrable gaze.

"If you're trying to make me feel guilty," I said, "it isn't working." I adjusted my cloak clasp again.

"I thought you had to leave?" he inquired of me, with a raised eyebrow.

"I do. Excuse me." Oh Gods. I didn't know if I wanted to leave or not, really. I wanted desperately to talk to him, but I didn't know what to say at this point. It seemed that whenever I tried to talk to him, all I could do was shut him out.

He took my pause for some kind of assent, and opened the door for me. "May I accompany you to the house?" he asked.

"If you insist upon it," I said, not sure if I would regret that later. "I certainly can't keep you out of there legally, as it's yours as well." But he certainly hadn't tried to force his way into either place, though, I mused.

Morgaine knocked quietly at the door and then opened it and poked her head in. "Ruthven's just arrived, do you want to talk to him before you leave?"

"Oh, hello, Morgaine," I said, brightly. "Would you please put these on the shelf? We're running a bit low—they do tend to sell well." I levitated a stack of Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Prowess with Potions toward her, making sure that Severus could see the title. Sneaking a glance at him as I did so, I saw that he was giving the books a thin-lipped glare, and it also sounded as if he was growling under his breath, but he didn't utter a word. "And, oh, these go with it…" I levitated a second stack, this one composed of prepackaged potion kits with Lockhart's idiotically grinning face on the box. How the stuff still sold after what had happened at the school two years ago was a mystery to me, but I took an almost insane delight each time I ordered the annoying (but profitable) merchandise.

Morgaine bustled away. Severus and I stood there in silence until she came back. "Do you need to talk to Ruthven, then?" she asked.

"No, just wish him a happy Yule for me and tell him I'll see him after the holidays." Severus opened the door and extended an arm to me. I walked out the door toward the street and ignored him. He followed me as I hurried down the sidewalk.

"Couldn't you tell me whatever it is you need to tell me at the store, or perhaps at the Three Broomsticks?" I asked, as I walked as far away as possible from him.

"You would be seen at the Three Broomsticks with me?" he asked, with a smirk on his face.

"On second thought, the house is best, I guess."

"Yes, as I'd prefer privacy," he said.

I stopped and turned toward him. "Look, Professor Snape." I inwardly smirked myself, as I knew how much he hated me calling him that. "Privacy with you is really the last thing I want for Yule this year. I never know which of your _friends_ you'll be bringing along with you, you see."

"Rowan. Please. This constant sarcasm does not become you," Severus began.

I cut him off, and started walking away. "As if you have room to talk about sarcasm!"

He followed, ignoring my remark. "You should not interrupt me. After all, you are still wearing my—"

"Don't remind me of that…THING. I've been trying to get it off since…well, for a while now. I even wrote to some stupid magickal advice column in the _Daily Prophet_ about it," I groused, and then instantly regretted telling him that.

"So that _was_ you," Severus snorted, as he continued, "I thought so. Enchanted _dog tag_, indeed."

"Well, what was I supposed to call it? Look, I gave you back your ring and pendant. I'm sure that someone in Massachusetts can help me get the, er…tag off. I'll owl it to you."

"I don't want you to bloody owl it to me, I want you to continue wearing it. And I want you to wear your ring and pendant again," he said, his voice rising with each sentence. We were turning in at the front gate to the house. "And I do NOT want you returning to Massachusetts!" he finished, as I waved my wand at the front door. "Are you even listening to me, woman?" he said, as the door swung open.

"Yes, I'm listening. But there is nothing that you can do about any of that, Professor," I said, as I walked into the front hall.

Severus followed and closed the door behind us, muttering and waving his wand, apparently performing all sorts of complicated locking and warding spells. After he was done, he turned to me and said, "And furthermore, woman, for the last time, I want you to call me by my proper name! Is that too much to ask?" He approached me and reached gently for my shoulders.

I panicked. "OH GODS! NO! PLEASE DON'T TOUCH ME!" I screamed.


	2. Chapter 2 - Elusive Memories

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 2 – Elusive Memories  
**

The next thing I knew, I was on a couch in front of the fireplace in the living room of the Hogsmeade house…the house that was supposed to have been our post-handfasting _pied-a-terre_…but was now a mostly empty shell that I returned to each night after closing down the shop.

I glanced around the room, and suddenly remembered that I hadn't put a couch there, nor had I placed a green blanket on top of it. Nevertheless, there I lay. A fire was blazing away in front of me, as well.

I began to panic, and sat up. Severus was in the room, in another chair that hadn't been there when I had left this morning.

"Rowan, you fainted," he said, approaching me slowly. "I thought it best that I bring you here rather than upstairs."

"I—er…where did this couch come from?" I asked, feeling rather stupid. I had fainted? Since when had I become a shrinking March violet? I realized that the answer to that question was problematic, and stopped that train of thought.

"My magical skills are not limited to the field of potions, my dear, as you well know," he said, sitting down on the end of the couch. I started to get closer to him, and then remembered, and moved away. He looked down at his lap. "Ah. So it is still like that, then, is it," he said.

"Well…I…." I began, weakly. He handed me a mug of hot chocolate. I took it reticently.

"Please drink it." He was still not looking directly at me. "I promise it contains only chocolate."

I sipped. It was good. "Thank you, Professor," I said.

He gave a long, resigned sigh. "I am going to repeat myself. I hope that it does not cause you distress as it did previously, although at least you won't be in danger of hitting your head on the floor this time. At some future date, might you find it possible to call me by my proper name, as you once did?"

"Um. Perhaps I might," I said, around a mouthful of hot chocolate.

"And, furthermore, would you please indulge me in talking with Albus, Minerva, and Poppy, all of whom have made repeated offers to discuss matters with you?"

"They're busy," I said, petulantly. "You know. Tournament stuff, and all that. Wouldn't want to bother them." I sat the now-empty mug on the floor.

Severus sighed again, withdrew his wand (I flinched) and conjured a table, and then floated the mug onto it.

"Well," I said, "you certainly _are_ handy. I could have used you back in my Muggle college days," I continued, with a smirk.

"And what about now," he asked. "I take it you find me superfluous, do you?"

"No, I just….I just….oh Gods, I can't handle it….I can't….every time I see you, I think of…" my shoulders began heaving and tears began rolling down my face. This was how I spent most every evening, although up to now, I had been alone, by choice. I cleared my throat and tried to forge ahead, my voice quavering wildly. "I'm going home, to Massachusetts. You can have the store. Morgaine and Ruthven are fine employees. Inanna's already told me I can have my old store back. She says she's not cut out for retail. Oh Gods…" my voice drifted off as I continued to sob. I felt a soft cloth in my hand and brought it up to my face, drying the tears that flowed there. After a short while, I opened my eyes, and realized it was Severus' handkerchief (which had embroidered snakes all over it).

"I can't even stand looking at this thing!" I screamed, and flung it into the fire.

"Here's another one, then," he said, and handed me a plain white one. "May I—may I touch you? I will not hurt you." He had moved slightly closer to me.

"I—I don't know, I…I'm not sure…" I was trembling nearly uncontrollably. It felt like a jolt of Muggle electricity was going through my shoulder as his hand eased slowly onto it. But, strangely enough, it also felt good, and I relaxed slightly. Slowly, moving cautiously every step of the way, he moved me so that I was in his arms. I relaxed a bit more, although I was still shaking from the tears that fell silently down my cheeks. We did not speak for some time. I pressed my head against his chest and felt the rapid murmur of his heart.

"Oh Severus, I have missed you, you know," I began.

"Well," he replied, and I could hear the rumbling of his low, drawling voice as he did so. "It seems that the future is upon us, is it not?"

I had to smile a bit at this, and continued. "What did you want to talk about?"

He withdrew himself from the embrace but remained close to me. Taking both my hands in his, he looked at me and began, "I promised you that I would lay my life down for you, if necessary. I also promised you that you would always be safe. I realize that what happened caused you unimaginable amounts of hurt and pain. But the most important thing, the thing that we should focus on, is that you are still alive. Most who run up against Macnair cannot make that same claim."

I started to say something and he placed a finger to my lips. "I must continue. In this particular situation, laying my life down would not have been the proper choice. If I had fought, if I had resisted, and if I had been killed—the results would have been far, far worse for you than you can imagine."

I looked at him. I had not considered that.

"That is not something that you considered, was it?" he asked. "I thought not. I suppose this whole thing is actually my fault. I should have had you moved out of that bloody apartment two weeks before Macnair ever showed up. But if you hadn't gone back to Massachusetts—"

"Don't you blame his visit on my vacation! How dare you!" I snapped, and instantly regretted it.

"Listen to reason, Rowan. I am hardly blaming you for any of this. But Voldemort didn't have us sitting around on our arses studying people's sodding vacation schedules so we could plan polite visits, you know. And going to America is not going to help you, now that the Death Eaters know of your existence. Macnair is quite capable of following you to Salem. And, in fact, I believe that Lucius Malfoy has an estate in Connecticut. You are not safe anywhere but here now, Rowan. I would prefer it if you would spend evenings at the school with me, in fact."

I began to panic. I knew what he said was true. I had hoped that things wouldn't get to this point.

"Look, Severus, I have to go. I am not really planning on staying there permanently. Rhiannon and Inanna have planned a dark moon ritual for me." I pulled the blanket back up over my lap and began toying with it.

"A retribution ritual, you mean?" Severus asked.

"Well, as close as we get to that sort of thing. A binding ritual," I explained. It wasn't that I hadn't thought of learning some of those Unforgivable Curses, and using them. But I had to hang on to what was left of my principles. "And I want my memories back before I go, Severus."

"You don't know what you're asking," he said, standing up and walking toward the fire, and waving his wand at it idly. The flames leapt higher as he continued. "You _don't_ want those memories, believe me. It is bad enough that I have my own."

"I need them for the ritual! I'll never be able to heal if I don't properly purge them! I've read about Memory Charms, and I don't like what I've read. Those memories are still there, and whether or not I'm consciously aware of them, they've been affecting me every single day!" The blanket was not helping—I was shivering again.

Severus turned back toward me and snapped his fingers. Another blanket, a twin of the first, appeared. "I know. Your memories have been affecting me, as well. I can feel them," he added, sitting back down next to me on the couch and smoothing the second blanket over me.

"Please…" I whispered. "Please sit closer to me. I'm so cold," I said.

"I can give you a potion," he began, as he shifted closer to me.

"No," I interjected. "None of that stuff—I don't want any of it—"

"Some more hot chocolate, then," he replied, moving the mug, full of steaming liquid again, to my waiting hands.

After I took a sip, I said, "Why did you mention Malfoy?"

"I was afraid that you would ask that, Rowan." He paused, but I knew what he was going to say. We were still connected; I had done nothing to change that. "He was there that night as well. With Macnair."

"Oh…oh…Gods…why didn't you tell me that before?" I was horrified. Perhaps I didn't really want my memories back at all.

"I didn't want to make this any worse for you than it already has been," he said.

"Thanks," I said, sarcastically.

"Rowan, you must understand that this has all been rather difficult for me, as well. I don't believe that Minerva has any respect left for me. Poppy won't speak to me, except in messages relayed through Albus. Draco Malfoy apparently knows the entire story and keeps attempting to speak to me about it. And let us not forget the constant stream of owls I've gotten from Macnair, congratulating me on my loyalty to the cause and my good taste, and recounting the incident!" At this last, he was practically shredding the arm of the sofa with clawed fingers.

I, however, was having quite a bit of trouble pitying him. "Well, geez, I'm so, so sorry about all that, Severus! Frankly, that sounds so horrible compared to what I went through," I said, slamming the empty mug down on the floor.

"I meant no disrespect! Nor did I mean to trivialize your experience, my love," he said, taking my hand in his. I only flinched a bit. "I had anticipated that you might want your memories back. You are, after all, rather strong-willed. I have a suggested course of action for you—of course, if you are going back to Massachusetts to live, it will not be necessary…" his voice trailed off.

"Dammit, Severus, you are such a—well, you know. I'm not going back to Massachusetts to _live_, I just told you that! I'm going back for the ritual, and for a vacation. It's a rather complicated ritual and requires a period of fasting and contemplation before its performance. I felt that it would be best if I did all of that there, on neutral territory, as it were." I paused. "And I have not dissolved our handfasting, either."

"You have not?"

"No. You have to be there for that to occur, and I haven't performed any Memory Charms on you. As far as you know," I smirked at this last.

"One of the things I love about you, Mrs. Snape, is your unerring sense of sarcasm at the most inappropriate times," Severus said, pulling me close (or as close as he could, considering the two rather lumpy blankets). "Now. My suggestion is simple: a Pensieve."

I knew of the magickal artifacts, but was also aware that they were rather expensive and hard to find. And the question still remained of how to get my memories into the object in the first place.

"I have already purchased one for you, Rowan. And I might add that the ridiculous sums of money that you have insisted on paying me for this house and the shop for the last two months have been going straight back to your Gringotts vault. Gandalf is getting rather bored of the whole enterprise, so you can cease that charade." I could just see the taciturn owl now, giving his owner a sneer that mirrored his own. I found the fact that Severus had obviously read Tolkien to be quite humorous, but had never asked him about it.

"Sorry, I guess I'll have to get my own owl, name him Frodo, and send my money directly to your vault, then." I stretched and yawned a bit. It had been a long day.

"You will do no such thing, woman! It is high time that we put our finances together, anyhow," he grumbled. "At any rate. We can commence the operation with the Pensieve tonight, if you wish it. I assume you had been planning to leave for Massachusetts tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"If you would wait here for an hour or two then? I have some business I need to conduct." He stood up and turned toward the chair. I saw his cloak and scarf draped over the back of it. He donned the outerwear and then approached the couch, and knelt down beside it, turning toward me. "Will you be all right? Do you want a Sleep Charm?"

I was oddly touched that he hadn't suggested a potion first, so I assented.

"Somnus," he whispered, and I sighed, rolled over, and fell asleep. I didn't even hear the "pop" of his Disapparation.

* * *

I believe I got the "Somnus" charm from the "Lack of Morals" story arc by Kat Reitz, which is quite a good read (warning: contains slash!). Not sure if it's still on the site.


	3. Chapter 3 - Further Secrets Uncloaked

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 3 – Further Secrets Uncloaked  
**

I was in a forest, running. Sweat poured down my body. I was wearing only a thin nightdress, and I was barefoot. I knew that no matter what, I had to keep running, or they would get me. I heard the pounding of heavy footsteps behind me. I tried to run faster, but I couldn't—I felt as if I were encased in some sort of substance that restricted my movement. My feet slowed and I felt hands grabbing me from behind, and a horrible, familiar voice, saying "Well, aren't you a treat." I was pushed to the ground, and then there was a dark figure in front of me and…

"Rowan! Please wake up, my love." I heard Severus' voice. Opening my eyes blearily and looking around, though, I didn't see anyone in the room. His voice sounded again, "Rowan! I am at the bloody door. Get up and let me in, would you?" _Oh. He was sending a thought to me_. I pushed the heavy blankets onto the floor, swung my legs over the side of the couch, and slowly stood up. Ugh. I felt horrible. And my robes were stuck to me with still-moist sweat. And—the pendant Severus had given me on the first weekend that we met, the one that I had given back to him, hung around my neck. That explained how he was sending the thoughts so clearly, as he'd charmed it to augment his Legilimency powers. I moved slowly toward the front door as if I were weighted down with sandbags.

"Are you all right?" asked Severus.

I reached for the pendant and thought, "Yes, I'm sorry…I had a difficult time waking up. I'll be right there." I looked down at my left hand. He had returned my handfasting ring to my finger as well. I was too tired to even be annoyed about it, considering that I had planned to wear them on my trip back to Massachusetts, anyway.

I opened the door to a blast of cold air, which felt very welcome. Severus stood there, in his cloak and scarf (looking rather dashing, my traitorous mind added), a stack of brown-paper-wrapped parcels floating in the air next to him.

"Rowan, I took the liberty of returning your jewelry to you while you slept. I felt that it would not offend you. I also spelled the door so that no one would be able to enter without your consent," he began.

"Thank you, Severus," I said, as I stood aside to let him in. He opened the closet door and hung his cloak and scarf inside it, next to my cloak. He scowled as he surveyed the rest of the closet's contents—stacks upon stacks of boxes. I had magickally expanded the closet to contain all of my belongings from my Diagon Alley apartment, save one box of clothes and one of bedding.

"You have unpacked nothing, have you?" he said, sounding rather gloomy. "Is it the same upstairs, as well?"

"Well, it is. Most of the rooms are empty. I haven't been spending much time here, and when I do, I'm rarely awake," I said.

He sighed. "We shall keep this house, but I must urge you to stay with me at the school in the evenings, once you return from Massachusetts."

"We'll see about that," I said, as I walked back into the living room. Severus and the parcels followed behind. After making sure the parcels safely landed, he snapped his fingers and the two blankets disappeared from the couch. Another snap produced two new blankets. He then waved his wand in front of me and replaced my disheveled robes with warm nightwear. The last thing he did was to conjure a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a plate with some small sandwiches and fruit on it. This miniature feast sat on the table, which he moved closer to the couch.

"Much better," he said, as he seated himself on the couch and poured glasses of wine for both of us with a flick of his wand. I plucked one of the glasses out of the air and sat next to him.

"Take one of these sandwiches as well. You don't look as if you've been eating much lately," he said. I did, and for a while, we sat in companionable silence as we once had, drinking our wine and eating a bit of the food. The fire roared away in front of us, removing any trace of a chill from the room. I could almost imagine that the last few months had been a bad dream.

"Now. While I was out, I first visited the store. I informed Morgaine that you would be out of town for some time; she informed me that you had already told her that," he began, as if he were lecturing one of his students—a particularly slow one.

I didn't care for his insinuations. "Severus, I know a little something about retail management," I said. "We've only just begun talking again. Must you _instantly_ manage my life?"

"I was merely trying to make things easier for you, my love," he said, not sounding contrite in the least.

"Sorry. Go on." I decided not to start any arguments. "You spoke to Morgaine?" I prompted.

"Yes. And I also spoke to that odd boy you hired, Ruthven, is that his name? Rowan, where on Earth did you find him? He looks like a vampire!"

I stifled a smile. Ruthven actually looked somewhat like a younger version of Severus, with a slightly smaller nose. When he first came and applied for the job, I had wondered about his possible origins myself, and still did. He was a fine worker, but would only work nights. He hadn't asked me for any pints of blood yet, though, and I had other things to worry about in the meantime. "Um. No comment," I said, suddenly finding the pockets of the thick, purple woolen robe that Severus had conjured for me very interesting.

"What do you mean by that, Rowan?" he asked, in his most dangerous voice. He then stood up and loomed over me.

I was overtaken by a fit of completely inappropriate giggling. "Er. Nothing. So, what did Ruthven have to say?"

"You will not change the subject, Rowan!" It was clear he wasn't going to give up. I, unfortunately, had graduated on to full-blown laughter after he decided to hold his robes in that way he often did that made him look a lot like a bat. (I had never had the chutzpah to tell him that, though, especially because I found it to be rather sexy). I had to sit down my wine glass for fear that I'd spill its contents all over the room.

Severus sighed, and sat back down. "I knew that we'd eventually have to discuss this," he began.

"Should I get some garlic out of the kitchen first?" I managed, practically choking it out. Not that I had any food in there, but he didn't know that. Or perhaps he did know, as he had conjured sandwiches from somewhere without even consulting me.

"I should say not; I'm not fond of it, really. And do attempt to contain your laughter," he continued, as that last sentence prompted a fresh round of giggles from me.

"Are you _quite_ finished," he said, once I finally stopped laughing.

"Yes, I'm sorry, Severus," I said.

"You are most certainly not sorry. I know exactly what you were thinking. I have heard all of the rumors before. I am neither a magickal creature, nor am I undead. I am a wizard, and very much a man—you should know that by now."

"And it's not like you're trying to stop those rumors by wearing black all of the time, avoiding the sun, and living in a dungeon," I added.

"Well. You certainly didn't seem to mind about any of that when I took you to bed, and when you bound your life to mine," he said, pulling me close.

"No, you were exactly what I wanted, Severus," and I looked down, wishing I hadn't made that statement in the past tense.

"Do you know, I have not taken any sort of pleasure since—since that night, Rowan," he went on. "Not with myself, and certainly not elsewhere. It's been unbearable," he said, staring at me with those dark eyes.

I couldn't say anything. I could not. I was transfixed by him.

He smoothed his hand over my hair and kissed my neck, sighing as he did so. "I have missed you so much. Let me make love to you, Rowan. I will not hurt you." His hands slid down over my robe-covered back and down around my bottom. "I ache for you," he groaned. "I need you. I haven't been able to live without you." His mouth slid up and met mine, and he gave another long groan as he kissed me deeply. My mind and soul were filled with nothing but his essence, and it felt so good, so right. Before I knew it we were entwined on the couch, my robe loosened, his hands under my nightshirt. "Let me, my love, let me make you mine again. Let me give you pleasure, let me make you come," he murmured. His hand slid down and I felt one finger gently teasing at my entrance. "I can feel it, I know you want me as well," he said, as my wetness coursed over his finger. He slowly massaged there, teasing, tantalizing.

"Yes, oh, you're so good, oh I love you, yes, please…make love to me," I sighed. He paused for a moment and withdrew himself from the embrace to remove his robe, his boots and his black vest. I pulled him down before he could finish, yanking at the buttons on his white, high-collared shirt. "You're so magnificent, so incredible," I whispered, as he threw the shirt onto the floor. He let his eyes flutter shut and concentrated, and then snapped his fingers, and he was naked, his huge prick jutting out from his thin, lithe body.

With a growl, he lunged at me, tearing the nightshirt off me, and within seconds, his entire length was buried inside me. I moaned and writhed up against him, wanting every inch of him, as he gasped for breath and began thrusting. I knew neither of us would last long. Within a few short minutes, I convulsed around him, once, twice, a third time. He moaned and I felt his entire body tense and shudder, as he growled in a low voice, "Rowan, I can't hold back any longer, I'm going to fill you up with it…." and he gripped me with his beautiful long fingers as I felt his come shoot into me, pulse after pulse…

I felt an explosion behind my eyes and I climaxed around him, and I couldn't help myself, I screamed, at the top of my lungs. "Oh Gods, oh Gods, yes, oh yes, oh…LUCIUS!"

It took me a minute to realize why Severus was looking at me like that, his black eyes flashing with horrified anger.

_Well, shit._

"THOSE FUCKING BASTARDS! I'M GOING TO KILL THEM!" howled Severus.

I guess that Malfoy really had been there that night.

I've never seen a romantic mood vanish so quickly in my life.


	4. Chapter 4 - Into the Fire

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 4 – Into the Fire  
**

"Oh Severus. I don't know what to say," I said, crumpling into his arms.

He was shaking with anger. "It is hardly your fault. The fault is all mine. I have been paying for my youthful idiocy for all of my life. I was a fool to think that I had managed to elude it." He gently withdrew himself from my grasp, stood up, and retrieved his wand from the hastily discarded pile of clothing on the floor. With a few waves, both of us were dressed once more. I picked up one of the blankets (which had slid to the floor during our activity), covered myself with it, and returned to the couch. I also got myself a glass of wine.

Severus, meanwhile, was pacing. "We must commence the operation with the Pensieve as soon as possible," he grumbled. "Or else I shall go mad!" He pointed his wand at the pile of wrapped parcels that he had brought earlier. One of them was rather large.

"On second thought, we shall take care of this little matter first," he said. "I told you I went to the store, and spoke to both of your employees. I gave them the rest of the evening off, and tomorrow off as well. And I had them remove certain items from the store," he gestured toward the large parcel with his wand.

"INCENDIO!" he yelled, and the parcel burst into flames. Once it had burned down, Severus caused the ashes to be whisked into the fireplace.

I was stunned. "Um….what was that all about?"

"Those _bloody_ Lockhart books and his sodding so-called potions kits. Our store shall not be carrying them in future." He scowled.

"I'm sorry about those," I had actually ordered them solely to annoy Severus. I suppose it had worked.

"Hmph," grunted Severus. "And these other parcels—" he indicated with his hand. "One is your Pensieve. The others are your Yule presents." He sat down on the couch heavily, and retrieved a glass of wine for himself, and took a long draught of it. "Ahhhhh…I must confess, my dear, there is a very light infusion of woodruff and valerian in this wine. If you wish to cease drinking it, I will understand." He did not look at me as he said this.

That was my breaking point. "Wait a minute. You—after all that happened, you slipped me a potion? How could you?" I sat the glass down. "Was it—was it a lust potion?"

"It _could_ be used as such, yes. I meant it to be relaxing," he began, but I held up my hand to stop him.

"I can't take this any more, Severus. Every day, it seems, there's something that you forget to tell me until after the fact. You manage my store without telling me, you burn stock that I ordered, and you question my judgment in hiring employees. After your old cronies show up and decide to make me the guest of honor at their fucked-up Death Eater fraternity party, somehow it's MY entire fault because I'm still traumatized!"

Severus stood up and faced me.

"Rowan, I did _not_ say it was your fault. And I was merely trying to assist you with the store," he looked down at his boots. "Please let me aid you. I have brought you a potion to properly restore your memories before you put them in the Pensieve. I—I worked on it all last night. Let me help you."

"NO! I'll do the Pensieve stuff myself; I've read about them and I know how to use them." By this point, I was standing up, and yelling. And I couldn't stop myself, words poured out of me, words that I would probably regret later, but I didn't care. "I don't want any more of your potions. I DON'T WANT ANY OF YOUR HELP! Don't you understand? I can't take any more of your FUCKING SLYTHERIN SHIT! Get the HELL out of here and let me have my old life back! I'll owl the keys to the house and the store to you before I leave tomorrow. And I'll send you enough Galleons to pay for sending the rest of my things back to Massachusetts."

"Rowan, don't do this. Don't let it end this way. I love you!" He tried to approach me. I shoved at his chest as hard as I could and he fell back against the wall. He stood up quickly and recovered himself, arranging his disheveled robes.

"Rowan, I will ask you one more time, do not do this. Let us talk sensibly and reasonably about this. Open your Yule presents, why don't you?"

"Stop treating me as if I'm one of your students! I don't want your fucking presents! You can cram them up your Death Eater ass!"

He said nothing to that; he merely gathered the parcels up with a wave of his wand.

I reached onto my finger and wrenched off my handfasting ring, and then removed the pendant from around my neck. I sat the items down on the table.

Slowly, he donned his cloak and scarf. "Very well," he said, in a muffled voice. He made no move toward the door.

"Get out! Just get out, Professor—I don't ever want to see you again! GO!"

He did, the parcels floating in the air beside him. I slammed the door and warded it with several overly excessive spells.

Several hours later, after a lengthy ritual bath and meditation session, I sat, naked, in the center of a pentacle chalked on the floor. The Pensieve, my wand, my athame (which I had unpacked from one of the boxes in the closet) and a large bundle (which contained the clothes I had worn on the night of the Death Eater assault, as well as my handfasting ring and the serpent pendant) sat next to me.

Taking a deep breath, I began to chant the Witches' Rune.

"**Eko, eko, Azarak,  
Eko, eko, Zomelak,  
Eko, eko, Cernunnos,  
Eko, eko, Aradia!**

Darksome night and shining Moon  
East, then South, then West, then North,  
Hearken to the Witches' Rune -  
Hear and come, I call thee forth!

Earth and water, air and fire,  
Wand and pentacle and sword,  
Work ye unto our desire,  
Hearken ye unto my word!

Cords and censer, scourge and knife,  
Powers of the witch's blade -  
Waken all ye unto life,  
Come ye as the charm is made!

Queen of heaven, Queen of hell,  
Horned hunter of the night -  
Lend your power unto the spell,  
To work my will by magic rite!

By all the power of land and sea  
By all the might of moon and sun  
As I do will, so mote it be  
Chant the spell and be it done!

**Eko, eko, Azarak,  
Eko, eko, Zomelak,  
Eko, eko, Cernunnos,  
Eko, eko, Aradia!" ****

The magick circle formed around me, its shimmering light obscuring the bare walls of the room. Counting myself down, I went into a trance and journeyed to the Astral Plane, and then to our coven's Astral Temple.

Rhiannon was there, tending a rose bush in the garden. "Bubbeleh. I thought I'd see you here soon," she said, opening her arms to me. We hugged for what seemed like an eternity.

"So. Do you want me to go in with you?" she asked.

"Yes, but I'll go in and get the memories myself. Then I'll put them in the Pensieve. And tomorrow night I'll be in P'town with as much of my stuff as I can carry." I said, grimly.

"Inanna will be there to pick you up," said Rhiannon. I had figured as much.

"Let's do it," I said, and walked into the temple. We strode down the marbled halls until we came to a door. Opening it, we walked down a flight of steps.

"There," said Rhiannon. "Turn left." At the end of a long, dark hall was a black, forbidding-looking door. It was clearly quite solid. A huge, silver, old-fashioned padlock was attached to it. I stepped closer and looked at the padlock. An embossed Slytherin serpent covered its exposed face.

"Ugh," I said, stepping away.

"You can handle this, Rowan. You have to," said Rhiannon. She stepped over and looked at the lock. The snake lifted up its head and hissed at her. "So _that's_ what the Obliviate charm does," she said. "My, he is quite a powerful wizard, isn't he," she mused. "And he clearly cares about you."

"Yes, I suppose he does," I said, "But I could fucking care less."

Both of us lifted our athames and pointed them at the lock. In unison, we traced banishing pentagrams over the lock. As we pointed to the center of them, we intoned, "FINITE INCANTATEM!" Nothing happened.

"Well, that was rather anticlimactic," I said, after we had regained our composure. "That rat bastard."

"Rowan, stay focused!" said Rhiannon. We repeated the procedure with the same disheartening result. "Fuck that fucking wanker," I muttered.

"You're not focusing," nagged Rhiannon.

We tried again. This time, the lock exploded into thousands of tiny silvery shards, which slowly vanished from sight.

Rhiannon looked at me, and then slowly turned and began to walk away from the door. "I'll see you in Massachusetts, bubbeleh. Mazel tov."

I reached up and slowly pushed the door open. I then walked into the room. The force of the memories returning to my head was like a rushing wind. I fell to my knees, clutching my head in my hands. The floor was too cold, so after a minute of uncomfortable realizations I stumbled up and exited the room, closing the door behind me.

I didn't see the door vanish as I ran down the hall and out to the main part of the Astral Temple. Taking a deep breath, I slowly returned myself to my body. The second I did, I grabbed my wand, pointed it at my forehead, and moved the long, silvery strands of memory into the swirling fog of the bowl.

I barely managed to shrink down the Pensieve and the bundle and put them into a small wooden box for easy traveling. Then I ran to my bathroom and was violently ill.

**"The Witches' Rune." A traditional chant. It is attributed to Doreen Valiente, the late Wiccan priestess; Janet and Stewart Farrar have published a version of it. Text can be found here:  . 


	5. Chapter 5 - Into the Pensieve

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 5 – Into the Pensieve  
**

(ONE MONTH LATER, IN SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS)

Our entire coven stood in a circle around the Pensieve and me. Even Michele and Bryan had returned to America for this task, as they had made amends with Rhiannon the previous month. We also had a visitor, invited by Rhiannon, who I had not yet spoken to. Uncharacteristically, we were all dressed in long, hooded black robes, a detail that I was trying my best to ignore. As the circle was built, my stomach churned.

At last, Rhiannon's visitor moved forward, flanked by Rhiannon and Inanna. All of them threw back the hoods of their robes. The visitor was a tall, rugged-looking blond man with short hair. Around his neck, he wore an elaborate Thor's Hammer necklace. He smiled at me and I felt instantly at ease.

"Rowan, I am Erik Gundarsson from the New York Auror Force. With your permission, I would like to enter the Pensieve with you." I had heard of the New York Aurors. Without hesitating, I took his hand and we moved forward and leaned into the Pensieve.

We landed in the living room of my old Diagon Alley apartment. Late summer afternoon sunlight dappled the walls. It was early September (I couldn't recall the exact date, but it was about two weeks after the Hogwarts term had begun), and the weather was still warm. I heard the sounds of a very strange piece of music reverberating around the room from my charmed Muggle CD player. I felt a pang of sadness; I had not been listening to any music—Muggle or wizard—for the last several months.

We stood in a corner out of the way, although we were, as far as the events taking place in front of us were concerned, completely invisible.

I heard my own voice, singing along with Tom Waits.

"_Come on along with the Black Rider  
We'll have a gay old time  
Lay down in the web of the black spider  
I'll drink your blood like wine  
So come on in  
It ain't no sin  
Take off your skin  
And dance around in your bones  
So come on along with the Black Rider  
We'll have a gay old time!"  
_

I remembered that I had been in the bedroom, packing up clothes, bedding and books. I also remembered having been annoyed, as I hadn't figured out how I had acquired so many of them during the last year or so. I even had some new dress robes—one, in particular, for the Yule Ball that would be taking place at the end of the year as part of the exciting Triwizard Tournament being held at Hogwarts.

I was packing up the apartment in preparation for moving to the house in Hogsmeade that Severus and I had purchased two weekends ago. I would live there and manage the new branch of the Diagon Alley Apothecary—our grand opening was to be held on the Fall Equinox (at my suggestion). Everything had happened so quickly after our handfasting. It was all very exciting, really. I had just returned from a week-long jaunt in Massachusetts, as Severus was quite busy with the new term. He had wanted me to move the day we purchased the house, but I convinced him that I needed a bit of time to relax with my friends.

I grimaced at my singing voice—did I really sound that horrible? I glanced over at Erik, hoping that he wasn't laughing at me. He wasn't. He was examining the room closely, in the way that police officers tended to do. I, meanwhile, continued to listen to the words of Tom Waits as they poured from the enchanted Muggle device. A chill ran over me as I did so—at the time, I had no way of knowing exactly how prophetic those words were going to be. I had merely found them disquieting in a post-modern sort of way.

"_Well, just come on along with the Black Rider  
I've got just the thing for thee  
Come on along with the Black Rider  
I want your company  
Well, I think I'll have the veal  
A lovely meal  
That's how I feel  
Oh, may I use your skull for a bowl…"  
_

I saw myself walk into the living room, several large boxes trailing behind me through the air. I had a big smile on my face and I was dancing around to the Muggle music. It looked odd for me to be doing so in wizarding robes, but I was like that—had been like that, that is.

"Shit! I've got to take down those wards! I wonder what time it is…" past-me mumbled.

"Do you often talk to yourself?" asked Erik.

I gave a short, barking laugh. "Yeah. Usually I try to wear my tinfoil hat, though."

Past-Rowan was holding up her wand and muttering the words that would dissolve the anti-Apparition wards around the apartment, in preparation for Severus' immanent arrival. Then, she/I sat down her/my wand on the table next to the CD player. I grimaced as I saw this—this was a near-fatal mistake, but one that I couldn't have known about at the time. She/I then walked back into the bedroom to pack more boxes.

A few more minutes passed. The song ended, and in the pause between songs, all of us—Erik, myself, and past-Rowan—heard the "POP!" of an Apparating wizard. Past-Rowan, however, did not see who had Apparated; and she/I did not check, assuming that it was Severus. Erik and I, who were viewing the scene from a slightly different perspective (I was not sure how that worked, exactly) saw the black-robed Death Eater in his white, skull-like mask. Another song began.

"That motherfucker," growled Erik. "Let me guess—he was following you. Knew when you'd take down the wards."

"Yes. Severus told me about it. Using Polyjuice Potion, he spied on us at the Leaky Cauldron when we were having a drink there a few days earlier. Apparently he was well-known for disguising himself and doing that sort of thing in the, er, old days." I stopped talking to observe Macnair, the Death Eater, point his wand at the CD player and mutter something. One flash of light later, and the small object had disintegrated into a pile of useless plastic parts. Another wand wave resulted in my wand flying into Macnair's hand. A third wand wave occurred. I figured he must have been creating his own Apparition wards with that one.

"Put that down, you dickhead…" I muttered. Erik put his arm around me and drew me close to him.

"Hey! Severus! What's the matter, don't you like the tunes? Well, Tom Waits is definitely an acquired taste." All of us—the past-Macnair, Erik, and I—turned to hear past-Rowan yelling from the other room. "There are some sandwiches and butterbeer from the Leaky Cauldron in the kitchen, if you're hungry! I'll be out in a minute. And would you please turn my music back on?"

No reply came. Macnair stood there silently, clearly waiting for past-Rowan to emerge from the room.

"Come on! I was listening to that…" Past-Rowan turned and walked into the room, a smile on her face. It was abruptly wiped off when she/I saw who was standing there.

"FUCK! Accio wand!" she/I yelled frantically, waving my/her hand in the air.

Macnair held up my wand in his black-gloved hand and waved a finger at past-Rowan mockingly.

"Naughty, naughty little girl," he said, in a horrible voice that almost sounded familiar. "I don't think you need this, if all you're going to do with it is fix that cursed Muggle device. Lucius didn't say you were a Mudblood. I would have thought better of Snape. Ah well, more fun for me if you are, then…" his voice trailed off. Past-me had not wanted to know this asshole's idea of fun. (Present-me, of course, was well aware of it, and I shuddered against Erik).

"Whadda fuckin' asshole," groused Erik.

"No, I'm NOT a Mu—a Muggle-born, you—you fucking…racist! What in Circe's name are you doing in my apartment! GET OUT!" Past-me stood there and stared at him in abject horror, unable to think of much more than an old liberal insult from my Massachusetts days. As if he'd care.

"Oh, I'll get out soon enough, pretty one." He took a step toward me and I backed away.

"Severus isn't going to like this! He—he'll be here any second!"

"I know that. But he won't be able to get in, and by that time, we'll be gone. No, you're coming with me. It's time that Severus shared his toys. You're a Yank, eh? I've heard about you Yank witches. I think we should have a little fun before I take you to meet Lucius," he said. "IMPERIO!"

He paused. Past-Rowan stood there, her eyes wide. I remembered the feeling, as if nothing in the world mattered. I had not needed to fight, I merely needed to wait for the next instruction.

He took off his mask and gloves and shrugged out of his outer robe and tossed them onto the sofa. Underneath, he was wearing another, lighter robe. He was tall and very broad-shouldered with short black hair and a thin black mustache. Under other circumstances, I might have even found him attractive; he resembled a stereotypical Muggle lumberjack. And, of course, by then, past-Rowan should have known who he was as she/I had seen him at the Quidditch World Cup.

"My name is Walden," he said, to past-Rowan. "Remember well, so you can scream it to me later," he continued. "Now, stay here, I'll be right back," and he walked into the kitchen. The Pensieve scene didn't follow him, but when he returned, he had one of the sandwiches and a bottle of butterbeer in his other hand. He stuffed the food in his mouth and then washed it down with the butterbeer and gave a long belch.

"Really?" I said, to Erik. "_REALLY_? That is just so _tacky_!"

"That line about screaming his name was new when Merlin was a fuckin' corporal!" Erik groused.

"Oh Gods, Erik, I don't want to watch the rest of this right now. Do I have to watch this?" I asked, knowing what was going to happen next. And even worse, I recalled that Severus had used a similar line on me the first weekend we had been together.

"No," said Erik, and just as past-Macnair began to lift his robes, revealing boots and nothing else, Erik pulled me close so that I could bury my face in his chest. Unfortunately, I could still hear what was going on. "Oh, ugh," I groaned.

"Thanks for the snack," he said. "Now come over here. I think you can figure out what to do next without any instruction from me."

* * *

SOME NOTES ON MOVIE!MACNAIR: This story was originally written in 2002, prior to the release of the film versions of POA, GOF, OOTP and DH, in which three different actors portray the executioner and Death Eater, Walden Macnair. Although I was very pleased with many of the casting choices for the HP movies (Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape, for example, were awesomely brought to life (although I think Snape should have been a bit younger), and I think that Moody, Lupin, Sirius Black and Bellatrix Lestrange were all pretty spot-on, too), I believe that the casting for Macnair **really** uber-sucked. He's quite clearly described in POA, and the actor in the movie version doesn't even look as if he could swing that giant absurd axe they've got him carrying, not to mention which he is credited as "The Executioner." Lamesauce. (The night I went to see that movie, I spent quite a while saying WTF.) The guy in the GOF movie might have been alright—he actually gets called by name, even (and why did they bother, after blowing the subplot in POA, I ask you?), but he's only there in that one scene. Then there's the third guy, who shows up in the OOTP and DH movies, and honestly, even though he's closer to the description, he still just looks like a cheesy cartoon bad-guy, so in the end, I chose to, essentially, wash my hands of movie!Macnair. Therefore, in my mind, he looks somewhat like a cross between Alcide Herveaux on True Blood and Vin Diesel…which is the only way the rest of this story makes any bit of sense.


	6. Chapter 6 - Sympathy for the Devil

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

And, folks, this chapter does get a little squicky, so please be warned.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 6 – Sympathy for the Devil  
**

The next thing I knew, Erik had gotten us out of the Pensieve.

"I thought maybe you needed to take a little break," he said. I agreed, and fairly ran to the bathroom after Inanna had cut me out of the circle. When I returned, Erik was in a serious-looking conversation with Rhiannon and Inanna. They moved aside to welcome me back.

"I've met that jerk-off," said Erik. "His name's Macnair. He works for the British Ministry of Magic as an executioner. He's considered an expert on dangerous creatures, actually. He consulted for us on a problem we had in the sewers back in the late 80s, when I first joined the force." Erik scowled. "I actually thought he was kind of cool. I had no idea he was one of those Death Eater morons. Sheesh."

"Severus and I saw him at the Quidditch World Cup, hanging out with Lucius Malfoy this past summer," I interjected.

"I remember seeing those people!" said Inanna. "And he must have been there, you know, later-when Severus helped me out," she said, looking at me.

Erik scowled again, and pulled me aside. "I think you and I need to have a little talk, real soon now," he said quietly. Louder, he added, "Are you ready to go back?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I said, and took his hand again.

"Aw, geez….I'm sorry! I was hoping we'd skip over the rest of this part," said Erik, the minute we were back within the swirling bowl of my memories.

Macnair hadn't quite finished with past-Rowan yet. He was grunting and pushing her/my head into his crotch with his rather beefy hands. As I watched, unable to tear myself away, he suddenly stopped what he was doing, pushed past-Rowan to the floor, growled, "Oh, bugger!" and swayed a bit where he stood. He then grunted again and rearranged his robes.

"Get up!" he barked to past-Rowan. Still under the influence of the Imperius curse, she/I complied, and stood in front of him. He picked up his Death Eater garb from the couch, and donned it as she/I stood there mutely. Consulting his pocket watch, he muttered, "Where the sodding hell is Snape?"

Past-Rowan said nothing to this pronouncement, so Macnair spoke again, and this time, weirdly, he sounded slightly different. "I asked ye a question—didna ye say Snape was supposed to be here?" He sat down heavily on the couch.

"Yes, he's supposed to be here at 6 pm," past-Rowan answered, in a dreamy voice.

"Well, he's late. It's 6:15. He should have—" Macnair's annoyed voice stopped in mid-sentence. A flurry of knocks and a muffled voice sounded from the apartment's front door. "Rowan! Rowan! Are you in there? I know those aren't your wards! Answer me!" It had to be Severus, trying the door, as he had been unable to get through Macnair's Apparition wards.

Macnair waved his wand in the door's general direction and muttered some sort of spell.

"It's about time," said Macnair. "Get undressed!" he spat, to past-Rowan, who complied. I blushed and attempted not to look at Erik as this occurred.

The knocks grew louder and became pounding, and then bangs, as if Severus was trying to kick the door in.

"Hey, don't worry," Erik remarked. "You look pretty good to me," he finished, with a smile. "Nice tattoo work." He paused for a moment, considering the scene. "Oh geez, what's that asshole doing now? Damn, I get it. What a fuckin' jerk!"

"Come over here," he growled. "NOW!" Past-Rowan, still under the influence of the curse, immediately did so, and as she/I did, Severus' muffled voice got even louder, an anguished wail, "NOOOOOOOOO!"

From my vantage point in the Pensieve, I realized that Severus must have tuned in to Rowan and known what was happening. I grabbed Erik's arm. "Oh Gods, oh Gods…he can feel it, he knows…"

"What?" Erik asked.

"Uh…Legilimency. I'll explain more later," I replied.

Meanwhile, Past-Macnair groaned loudly, tipped his head back, slid his hands down past-Rowan, and began his assault in earnest. He was still wearing the horrible mask. There was a loud BANG! The door burst open in a shower of sparks. Severus stepped through it, holding his wand before him. He looked very angry.

"What in the BLOODY FUCKING HELL is going on here?!" he yelled.

Just as he did, two large Death Eaters Apparated on either side of the door and grabbed both of his arms. A third Apparated in front of him and cried "EXPELLIARMUS!" Severus' wand went flying out of his hand and landed in the black-gloved man's hand.

Then everyone in the room Disapparated in a series of loud pops.

The scene in the Pensieve abruptly changed. Erik and I had, essentially, Disapparated along with the others. I knew where we were going. Strangely enough, as we viewed the events in the Pensieve, I seemed to remember more and more of them—although I had been under the influence of a Memory Charm for the last few months. But I had no time to muse on magickal theory at this point.

We were in a windowless room at Macnair's house. I suppose dungeon would be a more apt word for the place, as the décor was gruesome. It looked like the lair of a big-game hunter at first glance- mounted heads hung from the walls-but none of these creatures had ever roamed across the plains of Muggle Africa or India. Worse, like wizarding pictures, these examples of wizard taxidermy moved. And looked scared. And made noises. A hippogriff head was screaming, and—yes, that was a unicorn, and it was crying, huge pearly tears that dripped into a sizable puddle on the floor underneath it.

"What kind of an asshole would DO something like that?" I said to Erik. Erik did not answer; he was too busy attempting to catalogue the scene himself. In addition to the heads, there was also a large display of executioners' axes and what appeared to be old Muggle torture implements. I was relieved to note that there were not any human heads mounted on the wall, although I did spot what were clearly the heads of a house-elf as well as a goblin.

"What, doesn't he need housecleaning? Or a bank?" I said, gesturing at the heads. Erik still did not answer. He was closely watching the various wizards (and past-Rowan) who had just Apparated.

Severus was yelling and attempting to wrench himself from the grasp of the two over-large Death Eaters. The smaller wizard, who had Severus' wand, had turned almost completely around. He was watching Macnair and past-Rowan, who were still entwined together, except now on the ground, next to something that looked like a rack.

"MACNAIR!" barked Severus. "I KNOW IT'S YOU UNDER THAT MASK. DO YOU THINK I DON'T RECOGNIZE THE IMPERIUS CURSE, YOU STUPID WANKER? GET THAT DAMN SPELL OFF MY WIFE THIS INSTANT!" The smaller Death Eater in front of Severus, still holding his wand, flinched at his words. The two larger wizards merely held Severus' arms tighter as he struggled.

"Whatever you say, Snape," panted Macnair. "FINITE INCANTATEM!"

And past-Rowan suddenly realized where she was and what she was doing. And she/I began to scream, very loudly, and attempt to extricate herself from Macnair's grasp, which didn't work. The screams, unfortunately, didn't seem to dissuade Macnair from his task, and he finished it with a long, loud groan. Then he pushed past-Rowan off him onto the floor and cast a Full-Body Bind on her/me.

From my vantage point next to Erik, I could see the entire room, which was weird. What was even odder is that I was beginning to pick up past-Severus' thoughts. "Don't worry, my love, I'll find a way out of here. Oh Gods. And I'll kill him. No, first I'll castrate him, then I'll kill him," thought past-Severus. I decided not to clue Erik in on all that yet.

Macnair stood up, sighed with pleasure, and smoothed down his robes. "Snape, thank you for that fine suggestion. I much prefer an unwilling partner, as you know." He walked over to Severus and gestured at the two large goons holding him.

"Crabbe, Goyle—just hang him up there on the wall. Then go outside and keep watch. Avery," he looked at the smaller wizard, "go outside with them, wait for Lucius, and then put some wards up. And leave Snape's wand with me." He removed his mask and stuck it into a side pocket of his robe. The color of said robe, reflected in the torchlight of the room, seemed somehow blacker than black, as if it had been stained by past deeds.

"Still doing Lucius' dirty work for him, I see, Macnair? What's next, will you be wearing a Malfoy Manor tea towel? I didn't know they made them in your size!" yelled Severus, as the two bruisers hung him up by his wrists from some manacles attached to the wall, none too gently. One of them very slowly and painstakingly used his wand to create ones for his ankles, as well. These latter ones looked rather indistinct; I figured that neither were competent wizards. After they were done, they removed their Death Eater garb and lumbered out through a side door. The smaller wizard, Avery, removed his garb as well, and followed them.

"Oh, do shut up, you greasy bastard," said Macnair, as he removed his outer robe as well. He sat my and Severus' wands on a side table. "Tell me, did I take YOUR Imperius curse off her, as well? Or did you give her a potion to get her to sleep with you?"

"I can't BELIEVE these scumbags!" yelled Erik. He had been silent for a while, so I jumped a bit. "How the hell did a nice witch like you ever get mixed up in shit like this, Rowan?" he asked me.

"Long story," I said, and Erik held up his hand.

"Save it till later. But please tell me that it _wasn't_ one of Snape's potions that got you together with him," he added, with a frown.

"Of course not!" I replied. _Well, not exactly_, I thought. _OK, maybe one was sort of peripherally involved. Absinthe makes the heart grow….whatever. Geez_.

Speaking of potions, it appeared that Macnair was actually working with some, in a far corner of the room. Severus was squinting his eyes in an attempt to see what he was doing. I heard his thoughts, as Erik and I walked over to watch Macnair. _"Rowan…can you hear me? Are you all right?"_

I then heard past-Rowan's thoughts, echoing in my mind, and that was just plain weird, I tell you_…"Oh Gods, Severus…yes, I'm as good as one can expect. Why are they doing this? Can you get us out?"_

"_I will find a way, my love. In the meantime, I need you to be brave for me. Can you do that? I'll try to help you as much as I can. I love you so much. What is he DOING? Oh Gods—that's my old lust potion, oh no-"_

The door opened and Macnair wheeled around, and so did Erik and I. Lucius Malfoy walked into the room.

"Well, well. Thank you, Walden, for arranging this little soiree. I see that you seem to have started without me, but I was _unavoidably detained,"_ he addressed this last part specifically to Severus, and then continued. "I am so pleased that all of you could make it. Severus, it is always a pleasure to see you. And my, my, this must be your lovely wife, the Quidditch fan; I've heard so much about you—no, don't get up," he said, to the still Petrified past-Rowan on the floor, with a smirk. "As I don't believe we've met, do allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lucius Malfoy, and I'm an associate of your husband's. I asked you all here as I do believe we have quite a few things to discuss."


	7. Chapter 7 - Parseltongue

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 7 – Parseltongue  
**

There was no doubt about it; Lucius Malfoy was a man of wealth and taste. Extravagant, expensive, and rather flashy tastes, but they suited him. His hair was long and platinum, and it swept past his shoulders in a style that many women would envy. His grey eyes surveyed the room with an imperious gaze. He was wearing a long, black, raw silk robe with a serpent-shaped clasp at its collar, and he carried a walking stick that was surmounted by a serpent's head. Rubies were set into its eye sockets and its open mouth revealed realistic-looking fangs.

"Not very subtle, is he?" I remarked. Seeing Malfoy made me very uncomfortable. I remembered, all too well, what I had said to Severus the night before I had left England.

"Geez," said Erik, "He might as well be wearing an "I Love Voldemort" t-shirt. And that friggin' outfit probably costs more than I get paid in a year. Wonder who he killed to pay for it? And what's up with the hair? My buddy from the Hartford Auror Force is gonna love hearing about this…"

"So they know about him?" I recalled Severus' comment to me, back in Hogsmeade, about Malfoy's Connecticut estate.

"Oh yeah. Red Cloud's wanted to get some dirt on this turkey for years," Erik replied.

While Erik and I made our observations, Malfoy and Macnair had been over by the table containing the potions ingredients. Malfoy was examining the progress of the bubbling cauldron, and Macnair was looking anxious, somewhat like Severus' students at Hogwarts.

"Walden, you've completely buggered this batch," said Malfoy. "Why in blazes didn't you have the potions done before tonight, like I asked you? Get Severus down from there and he can do it."

I flinched at Malfoy's turn of phrase. Erik saw me do so, and his hand tightened on my arm. "Come on, champ, you can handle this. They're just talking. If it gets too heavy, you don't have to watch, just like before." Past-Rowan was still Petrified on the floor. Past-Severus was still in chains, but when he heard his name mentioned, he spoke up.

"Yes, _Walden_," he sneered, "you never could tell a cauldron from a bloody Bludger, even if one of them hit you in the head! Or maybe that was your problem, hmmm? Any first-year dunderhead could tell you that you don't stir a lust potion counterclockwise!" He rattled the chains angrily. "Lucius, stop this charade and let me down immediately!"

"Not before we have that little discussion that I mentioned earlier, Severus."

"Then let us do so, by all means, Lucius!" spat Severus.

"Very well. Walden, let him down, then go outside with the others and wait for me. And take their wands with you," said Malfoy.

"But-" said Macnair, who looked very disappointed.

"Do what I said, Walden," said Malfoy. Macnair grudgingly walked up to Severus and touched his wand to the restraints, which disappeared. Giving Severus a glare, he stalked through the door, slamming it on his way out.

Rubbing his wrists, Severus advanced on Malfoy. "Lucius, what in the hell do you think you're up to now? Do you think it would be possible to, perhaps, GET MY WIFE OFF THE BLOODY FLOOR!"

"Of course. I was wondering why you hadn't already done it, but Walden must have suppressed your wandless abilities. He does tend to get a bit overenthusiastic sometimes." Malfoy leveled his wand at past-Rowan and lazily intoned "Finite Incantatem." With another wand-wave, he created a summer-weight green robe for her. "There, Severus, is that acceptable?"

Past-Severus ran over to past-Rowan and helped her to stand up, and then embraced her. She/I was clearly trembling.

"Well. How charming," said Malfoy. "I never would have thought it of you, Severus. You didn't seem the type." He paused, and leaned the serpent-headed cane up against the table with the potion ingredients on it. "That does bring us around to our first order of business." He waved his wand and a round table containing tea things appeared, with three chairs ringing it. "Do have a seat, Severus." Severus led past-Rowan to the chair furthest away from Malfoy, and then sat down next to her. Ignoring Severus' attempts to keep him away, Malfoy walked directly up to past-Rowan and took her hand. "As I said before, I don't believe we've been properly introduced, Mrs. Rowan Hawthorne Snape," he said, and then kissed her/my hand. "Delighted." He then sat down elegantly in the remaining chair. "Now. Severus. I've wanted to have this discussion for quite a while now. Imagine how surprised I was, especially after _all_ I'd done for you, when my son came home from Hogwarts in his second year, and I discovered that his favorite professor, and his Head of House, had placed several Memory Charms on him?"

"I don't know what you're getting at, Lucius," began Severus, who was perched on the edge of his chair, his arms folded.

"And then imagine my further surprise when I removed said charms, only to discover what you had been attempting to hide? We'd done all that work to set everything up, and it had, apparently, all worked so _very_ well, and you never even bothered to inform me of your success _or_ properly thank me! And then you kept the charade going this past year, at the Quidditch World Cup. Don't you think I can recognize your magickal signature, Severus? We are, after all, brothers under the skin."

"Hmph," said Severus, clearly at a loss for words.

Malfoy continued. "Or perhaps we are no longer brothers, Severus, perhaps you've betrayed us. Surely, you've noticed the trends inherent in recent events. Are you with us or against us?"

"You know where my loyalties lie, Lucius, and where they _always_ have been," said Severus, in a quiet voice. Past-Rowan, Erik and I all looked at him. Was he referring to Voldemort?

"Then why haven't you been sharing your toys, Severus? We've missed you at the Manor. Those last few Dark Revels haven't been the same without you. And what was all that about at the World Cup? Surely you don't mean that you and I wasted all that time and energy if this one's a Mudblood?" Malfoy gestured at past-Rowan.

"You know me better than that, Lucius," said Severus, looking down at his hands.

"I thought I did. But then Walden told me that all you did after your little—display—at the Cup was disappear with her," he gestured at past-Rowan again, "and some short-haired bull-dyke. Did they put on a private show for you, Severus?"

Past-Rowan scowled. I scowled, too.

"No, Lucius, they did not. What I did with them was none of your business. You shouldn't have had your trained killer follow me around," remarked Severus.

"And YOU should keep your greasy little wand away from where it doesn't belong!" yelled Malfoy.

"You didn't seem to think that my _wand_ was so greasy or so little when you used to watch me at your Revels, Lucius. Or have you forgotten that?" sneered Severus.

Past-Rowan stared at both wizards, her mouth open. There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

Erik turned to me. "I really hope they're not talking about what I think they're talking about."

"I'm having trouble with all the double entendres myself," I said. "Damn Slytherins."

"I wasn't referring to _that_ wand, Severus," Malfoy continued. "Your mind is still perpetually in the gutter, just as it ever has been. Let me make it clearer to you—I absolutely _forbid_ you to modify Draco's memory again. If you do, there will be severe consequences."

"There already have been, Lucius. That slavering bloodthirsty wretch just assaulted my wife, apparently at your behest!"

"I asked Walden to bring the both of you here for a discussion. What he did on his own is between you and him," replied Malfoy, with a smile.

"Blameless as usual. Tell me, Lucius, why bother getting the old crowd together? After all, I thought _you_ had only been part of the Knights because of the Imperius Curse," replied Severus. Neither wizard was paying attention to past-Rowan, who had slumped over in her/my seat, a cup of tea clutched in her/my shaking hands.

"Severus, I hardly think we need to go into ancient history. Suffice it to say that the writing is on the wall and I, for one, intend to be ready when our Lord calls us to his service once more."

"Yes, Lucius, loyalty is certainly your middle name," drawled Severus. "This has all been quite enlightening, but I think this particular discussion is just about at an end. I shall talk to you in private someday soon; however, I believe I'll be taking my wife and leaving now."

"Oh no, Severus. You're not getting away that easily. The evening has just begun, for all of us. I think that I shall be taking your wife, instead. Right now."

"WHAT?" shouted Severus.

And with a snap of Malfoy's fingers, his assorted cronies, who had apparently been waiting just outside the door, reentered the room. Macnair, Avery, Crabbe and Goyle rushed Severus, who had jumped from his chair toward Malfoy's general direction. They held him down and magically bound him again. This time, though, they didn't chain him to the wall. They put him on the floor and surrounded him, wands at the ready.

"As I said, you haven't been sharing your toys, Severus. I've waited long enough. I am now calling in your debt. It is time to pay me back for all that work we did together to…shall we say, _rehabilitate_ your name. And you can either be a willing participant or Hogwarts' newest ghost. Which is it to be? Now, I'm sure the Bloody Baron won't give up his duties without a fight. And I hardly think you'll be able to terrorize your Potions classes so effectively if you're transparent," mocked Malfoy. Past-Rowan stared at the scene, unable to move.

"Prove to us that you're still one of us, Severus, and you'll be free to go," continued Malfoy, "both of you, of course." He turned and walked toward past-Rowan and put his hand on her arm, and glanced at Macnair. "What do you think, Walden?"

"I think he's a disgrace to the Knights, and a disgrace to Slytherin," Macnair spat.

"You think wrong, Macnair, not that you ever could think without Lucius to help you!" yelled Severus. Macnair kicked him in the side. "And you're just as brave as ever!" finished Severus.

"Walden, stop that immediately! Let him answer," said Malfoy. Tightening his grip on past-Rowan's shoulder, he began again, "Now I asked you, Severus, which is it to be?"

All eyes were on past-Severus.

And once again, I heard in my mind past-Severus' thoughts as he sent them to past-Rowan—a disconcerting experience, to be sure. _"My love. For the sake of my true allegiance, to the Order of the Phoenix-I must go along with them. I must protect my cover at all costs. Please realize that I never wanted this to happen. I will protect you in every way that I can."_

Past-Rowan didn't respond.

I said, out loud, "Order of the Phoenix? Have you ever heard of them, Erik? And what's this Knights stuff?"

"I have heard of the Order, but I'm not sure what that other stuff means…I can guess, though, probably some Slytherin crap. Why did you just mention the Order, though?" he said, sounding surprised.

"Uh, it'll take a while to explain. So who are they?" I looked at the group of Death Eaters surrounding the bound Severus. They were all still silent. I realized they weren't moving. Neither was past-Rowan.

Erik held up his wand. "I paused the Pensieve," he said. "Thought we needed to take a little breather. Anyway, the Phoenixes. That's Dumbledore's group. Good folks. Some of the British Aurors are members. "

"And so, apparently, is Severus," I said.

"Well, _that's_ interesting," said Erik. "I didn't know that; he must be under deep cover. It does explain a lot, though. There's an American group related to them, the Order of the Eagle. You have to be invited to join. The word on the street is that I'll be asked sometime this year." He tapped his chin for a moment, obviously deep in thought. "So Severus is a Legilimens, and you and he have some kind of mind connection, is that it?"

"Yes, that's basically it." Despite the 'tough cop' act, Erik was pretty shrewd.

"And you're picking up his past thoughts? That he sent to the _past_ version of yourself?" he asked. "Man. I knew I should have taken that extra credit seminar at the Asgard School. I'm not sure how you're picking those up."

"Neither am I. I'm trained as a History of Magic teacher, not as an artifacts specialist." I winked at Erik.

"And a damn cute one. The Count doesn't deserve you," Erik replied. I punched him on the arm. "Sheesh! What did I say?"

"I've heard all those jokes before, Erik. Give it up." There were some things I missed about Severus…his voice, for one, and his long, elegant hands, and the way he'd quirk one eyebrow up while making a sarcastic remark. I even missed the remarks.

"So, what did he tell you, I mean, you know, the past-you?" Erik scratched his head with his wand while making a face.

"He said that he had to protect his cover for the Order of the Phoenix." I stared at the floor, which was composed of vast stone blocks. It looked cold. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so quick to judge Severus. Judge, jury, and—hell, there's even an executioner, right over there, I thought, glancing at the stock-still past-Macnair, who had a sneer on his face.

"Shit. You know, I actually feel sorry for the boy. So he's a fucking spy. I still don't trust him, but at least now I understand what the deal is with Dumbledore." He tugged at the collar of his robe. "Do you want to take another break?" he asked.

"I thought you'd never ask," I replied.

* * *

The idea of the Dark Revels at Malfoy Manor was borrowed from Riley's "Pawn to Queen." Thanks, Riley.

When I first penned this fic, OOTP had not yet been released, but the title was common knowledge. At that time, I had a vague idea that the OOTP were the opposite number of the Death Eaters, and many many other fanfic writers used that idea, too. It's interesting doing a 'ret-con'


	8. Chapter 8 – A Clockwork Orange

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 8 – A Clockwork Orange  
**

While we were outside of the Pensieve, Erik and I also cut ourselves out of the circle for another bathroom break. To the other participants in the circle, of course, less than a minute had passed since our previous emergence. Rhiannon and Inanna were sitting together. They gave me a significant look, but neither of them said anything to me until after Erik and I returned to the circle.

"Rowan," began Rhiannon, "Inanna went up to the Astral Temple last night. She told me that there was another door in your section, with another lock on it, just like the last one we found. So, I went and checked it for myself. I don't think that Severus put it there. The lock looked similar—it had a snake on it, but it was different. It had red eyes, for one thing, and big fangs. I didn't like the look of it at all," she added, shivering a bit.

"Malfoy." I said, and looked at Erik. "I'd bet you anything that he did it to get Severus back for modifying his son's memory. Do you want to go help me get rid of the lock? Obviously the memories should go straight to the Pensieve," I said.

"Oh yeah. Let's do it," said Erik.

And thus Erik and I abandoned the Pensieve for a short while, and journeyed together to my coven's Astral Temple. On the physical plane, the coven continued to surround us, sending protective energy.

Erik and I walked into the temple; I saw him glance around a bit at his surroundings. I looked at him and smiled—he appeared, on the Astral, as a traditional Viking warrior, complete with fur leggings and a helmet. He was swinging a large Thor's Hammer in one hand.

"Nice outfit," I said. I, of course, was wearing my ritual robe.

"Yeah, well, I thought I might be more intimidating this way," he said, as we walked down the stairs and then to the long hallway where I had found my other memories a month ago.

The door and lock looked just as Rhiannon had described. I recoiled from the snake-embossed lock, knowing instinctively that it was indeed Malfoy's work. "Geez. I wonder what the hell's in here?" I asked, out loud and somewhat rhetorically. Erik shrugged and shifted his Thor's Hammer to his other hand, as he examined the lock.

Despite my professed ignorance, I knew, somehow, that the memories locked behind the door had to do with why I had felt so scattered during the last two seemingly endless months. I had often woken up in the mornings feeling as if part of my evenings had gone missing. This usually occurred after I had spent an evening at the Three Broomsticks, and at the time, I had written my memory loss off to the alcohol. Now, though, I was not so sure.

"So," said Erik. "Do you want me to trash that lock for you? It'll only take a minute. All you have to do is stand behind me and add your intent. I think you can handle that, kiddo."

"Yeah," I said, pausing for a moment to examine the red eyes of the lock again. They reminded me of something. I could almost put my finger on it. Something Malfoy had said…but when? I closed my eyes and stretched my hand out toward the lock, which was hissing at me. And suddenly I knew what was behind the door. I only needed the return of my memories to confirm it.

"Rowan?" Erik looked at me quizzically. "Are you ready?"

"Do it," I said, staring into the red eyes of the serpent.

He raised his hammer above his head and intoned, in a voice that echoed throughout the halls (our Astral Temple would likely never be the same), "ASGARD! HEL! MIDGARD! ALFHEIM! SVARTALFHEIM! MUSPELLHEIM! VANHEIM! NIFLHEIM! JOTUNHEIM!"

He paused, obviously waiting for an acknowledgement. Nodding his head slightly, he continued.

"MIMIR! Hail, Mimir, wisest of the etin-kind. Hail, warder of memory's might!

My ancestors' draught I come to drain. The waters of wisdom I come to drink!" And then Erik swung his arm up and brought the Thor's Hammer down in a crashing blow, directly onto the lock. The serpent hissed wildly as it realized its impending doom. There was a small explosion, and the broken pieces of the lock clattered to the floor. We both stared at them until they melted away into nothingness.

"Do you want me to go in there with you?" Erik asked, with a concerned look. He didn't even look as if his magical exertion had caused him to break a (metaphorical) sweat. I was impressed.

"No, I want to do this myself. But be ready—I'll want to get to the Pensieve as fast as possible when I come out," I said. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

These memories hit me with the force of a Muggle bullet train. They coursed through my mind as we ran through the halls of the Astral Temple and out onto the grounds, preparatory to returning to the physical plane.

It was just as I had anticipated. Malfoy had indeed been responsible for the missing time. He had been visiting me at the store and the Hogsmeade house several times a week for the last two months, purely for sexual trysts. All of the memories of those evenings came flooding back, and I blushed. He would arrive at the store just as I closed it, after I had sent Morgaine and Ruthven home. Sometimes, he would accompany me to the Three Broomsticks. This explained the odd looks I had received from Rosmerta, the bartender, when I'd go in there alone. At other times, we'd just go straight to the Hogsmeade townhouse.

But Malfoy had made a mistake. He had obviously been so overly confident of his mind-controlling abilities, and apparently so used to weak-willed Death Eater wives, that he didn't think I'd ever bother to try and find the reason behind my state of confusion.

Erik and I returned to full consciousness within the circle. As I sat up and looked around, Inanna winked at me. After a short period of recovery (and a bit of food and drink to ground us), I stood up and, using my wand, pulled the strands of just-retrieved memory from my forehead and transferred them to the bowl. The silvery-gray strands glowed with an eerie light. Several strands lifted themselves out of the bowl and twined around the new strands. Braided together, they slowly lowered into the swirling, circular mass. Immediately after I did this, I grabbed Erik's hand, wanting to get the rest over with as soon as possible.

We returned to, more or less, the moment at which Erik had paused the Pensieve. I made a mental note to myself to ask him how one could do that. Hopefully, there might also be a way to "fast-forward" the memories.

Macnair kicked Severus in the side. "And you're just as brave as ever!" said Severus, after that.

"Did you have to come back to exactly that moment, Erik?" I said.

"Sorry," said Erik, with a smirk. "I meant to skip over it."

"Walden, stop that immediately! Let him answer," said Malfoy. Tightening his grip on past-Rowan's shoulder, he began again, "Now I asked you, Severus, which is it to be?"

All eyes were on past-Severus.

Once again, Severus' thoughts sent to past-Rowan echoed in my mind. "_My love. For the sake of my Order-my true one, the Order of the Phoenix-I must go along with them. I must protect my cover at all costs. Please realize that I never wanted this to happen. I will protect you in every way that I can."_

Past-Rowan didn't respond, or if she did, I didn't hear it. This was all getting very confusing.

Erik and I looked at Severus. There was a very long pause.

Malfoy spoke up, "Well, Severus? We don't have all night to wait for your answer. Yes or no?"

Severus dropped his gaze to the floor and gave a very small nod. I heard, once again, his thoughts to past-Rowan, "I am sorry, my love."

"I must say I am pleasantly surprised," began Malfoy. "Walden, you and the others take him outside and wait for further instructions."

"Lucius! What is the meaning of this? I agreed to no such thing," yelled Severus. He began struggling to free himself from the grasp of the other wizards, who were hauling him up, none too gently, by the arms and dragging him toward the door. Macnair walked behind the group.

"This isn't your classroom, so you're not the one setting the conditions here, Severus. Take him outside, I said! Get on with it!" replied Malfoy. Past-Rowan remained in the chair, Malfoy's hand still on her shoulder.

"Let me go! I never agreed to leave my wife alone with you, Lucius! Damn it, let me go!" Severus was fighting the Death Eaters, attempting to make his way across the room. But there were too many of them—Malfoy had chosen them well for this purpose.

I glanced at Erik. He had a grim smile on his face. "What, he expected them to be honorable or something? Although I do give him points for trying to fight them."

Macnair abruptly reached out with one of his large arms and knocked Severus to the floor, where he landed in a clumsy heap. Severus glared at him, and yelled, "Macnair, you arsehole, when I get you in a fair fight, you're going to pay!"

"Just shut up, Snape, and get outside, unless ye want me to break every one of yer fingers," growled Macnair, (who sounded very awfully Scots, yet again, and it was odd), as he grabbed Severus' arm and dragged him out the door.

"What a total and complete asshole," I said.

After Severus, Macnair, and the rest of the flunkies had departed the room, Malfoy turned to past-Rowan.

"Now. You're coming with me," he began, and led her/me through a side door to a room that contained a large bed, and nothing else. I shuddered as I saw it—and I remembered my reaction when I had seen it then. There could be only one possible purpose to such a room, close as it was to what appeared to be Macnair's dungeon. It was a sure bet that it wasn't an extra guestroom.

"Sit down, my dear," he said. Past-Rowan, who remained silent, sat on the corner of the bed. Malfoy paced in front of her.

"Now. I could, if I wanted, have your husband killed right now. And I don't believe that many would miss him, save perhaps you, and possibly that Muggle-loving fool Dumbledore. But I don't really want to do that, as we have managed to remain friends for a number of years." He paused.

"Gee, how touching," said Erik.

"Yeah, he's a real softie, isn't he," I added.

"So I have devised a solution for you. I'll placate Walden somehow—he really _is_ quite bloodthirsty; he and Severus have never really gotten along—rather obvious, isn't it? And I'll make this evening as pleasant as I can for you. However, you will then be in my debt," he finished, with a small smile. "Do you have any questions?" he added.

Past-Rowan opened her mouth and whispered, "What do I have to do?"

Malfoy chuckled. "Why, just sit there, my dear, and I'll tell you." He held up his wand and leveled it at her. "IMPERIO ARCANUS!"

"Oh geez, NOW I get it," said Erik, with a sigh.

"I know the Imperius curse, but I've never heard of that other part before. Have you, Erik?" I asked.

"It's truly worthy of a man who walks around wearing snakes all over his friggin' clothing," he began, as he paused the Pensieve.

"Hey!" I said.

"Rowan, get over it," Erik sighed. "Anyway, that particular curse is obviously derived from Imperio. Not as many people know it, but it is also technically classified as an Unforgivable. It allows the wizard casting it to implant a command that will be obeyed at the time of the curse, OR at some point in the future. There's usually a trigger phrase to start and begin whatever it is the wizard wants the recipient of the curse to do. We've had a crapton of trouble with it in New York. I tell you, if I had any jurisdiction over this Malfoy goombah, I'd have no problem sending his ass to Azkaban…although I'd prefer to send him to Sing Sing Annex." The latter was the most infamous of the American wizarding prisons. Rather than dementors, it was guarded by Manitou, Native American demonic spirits.

"So those memories, and that lock we found—"

"I'm sure we'll find that part of the task he's going to give you is to forget something," Erik said.

I sighed. "Yeah, like his visits for the last few months. Crap. Let's just get on with this, Erik," I said. The Pensieve began to flow again.

"You and I are going to consummate our short-lived relationship now, Rowan," began Malfoy. "And then, we shall continue to do so after this evening. I shall visit you in Hogsmeade," he smiled at her look of surprise. "Oh, yes, I know all about your house and store there. Severus purchased that house from a company that I own, after all. When I visit, and during my visits, you'll remember me—enough to enjoy yourself, I should hope. After my visits, and between my visits, you won't, although I may eventually modify that as…things progress. And after tonight, the very thought of doing anything at all with Severus will disgust you. You won't want him to come near you. In fact, you'll blame him for this entire evening, I think. He can be _so_ bothersome, can't he? After all, I have been assisting him, shall we say, to improve his options, but he never bothered to properly thank me! And I don't want Macnair bothering with you anymore, either, after tonight. He's an uncultured brute and not worth your time, even if he does have impressive tackle."

Past-Rowan blushed, and said nothing. .

"There's no need to be so bourgeois, Rowan. I think we're all beyond that sort of modesty at this point. You'll note that all of us share that same characteristic. We used a charm, one we learned from the Dark Lord. He said that it had been passed down from Salazar himself. It was one of the _many_ benefits of being part of his company."

Past-Rowan looked at the floor. Here was yet another bit of information that Severus had neglected to give me.

"Damn!" said Erik. "I don't even know what to say! Boy, wait till the guys on the force hear about THAT!"

Malfoy continued pacing. "My wife, on the other hand, seems to have no interest in anything save for Florence Parkinson these days. Later on, I'll introduce you to her. If your tastes run in that direction, you might actually enjoy her." He paused.

Erik interjected, "He's saying his wife bats for the other team? Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

"I guess. I've seen her-you wouldn't think she even plays the game at all," I chuckled.

Malfoy was continuing, "So I think, all things considered, that this will be a mutually beneficial arrangement for both of us. With my next words, we shall begin this arrangement…FIAT OBSCURUS!"

That was clearly the trigger phrase. Then Malfoy removed his robes and past-Rowan's with one swift wand-wave. He walked up to past-Rowan and lifted up her chin with a long, elegant finger. "Now there's no reason to be unhappy about this. I think you'll be pleased."

I turned to Erik and said, "Is there a way to fast-forward this thing? Please, say yes."

"Well, there is, or you could just not watch, like before," he replied.

"I think that's a plan," and I turned to face him, but of course, I could still hear Malfoy's mocking voice.

"Do you like it rough, Rowan, the way Severus likes it? I certainly hope so," he growled, as pushed her/me down to the bed, and began his assault. "After we finish here, I want to watch him take you," he added.

* * *

Latin: arcanus – secret; obscurus – dark. I may not have used the proper endings on these words. It's been a loooooooong time since I took a Latin class. Mea maxima culpa.


	9. Chapter 9 – Hymn to Dionysus

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

Folks, this chapter contains lots of adult content and is not for the faint of heart. Please, please, skip over it and email me for a synopsis if you don't want to read it, OK? It is rather long and does contain elements necessary to an understanding of the further plot, but it may also squick you. You have now been officially warned!

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 9 – Hymn to Dionysus  
**

Despite Malfoy's pronouncement of wanting to watch Severus and Rowan together, he took his time with past-Rowan. A lot of time. After a few minutes, though, my curiosity overwhelmed the other feelings swirling through my brain—embarrassment and anger were the two I could identify most readily—and I turned around to watch along with Erik.

As I did so, the eerie voice of past-Severus echoed in my mind. "_Resist him! Rowan, my love, you must resist him! Please!"_ It was too late, though—the Imperius had already been cast, hadn't it? What did Severus mean? I recalled that wonderful summer two years ago when Severus had given me magical lessons. At the time, of course, he had mentioned the Imperius Curse. I had subsequently read more about it, but this variant was a new concept for me. Did it immediately work, or was it subtler than that?

When I turned around, I was actually surprised at what I saw—I had assumed that Malfoy would be a brutal lover, but he was not. His attentions were very slow, sensual, and thorough, and past-Rowan, under the Imperius Curse—I guessed, although I had my doubts, as these memories were quite clear in my mind-was presently returning the favor to him with enthusiasm. It was immediately obvious that Malfoy was not going to be the "sixty-second wizard" that Macnair had been. So Erik and I, each without looking at the other, conjured up chairs for ourselves and sat in them. We made very little conversation.

"_Sweet Mithras, my love, please resist him! You must! Let me help you! Use the tag! Connect with me! PATEO-uhhhhhh_." and the voice of past-Severus suddenly stopped. What had happened?

After this, I saw Erik squirm a bit and wave his wand. Past-Rowan had just come to a very loud, clearly very intense climax, whilst screaming "Lucius!" at the top of her lungs. I grimaced. The Pensieve ceased, with very unfortunate timing. Malfoy was reaching out his left hand, obviously seeking something, while muttering "Accio!" The Dark Mark was quite visible on his forearm. I grimaced again, and dropped my head into my hands.

"Uh, Rowan," began Erik. "I get the feeling that you…uh, probably don't want me to watch this. Do you understand? Will you be OK alone in here for a while?"

Oh, I understood, all right. "Yeah, no problem." I didn't get up. I wasn't sure I wanted to acknowledge what I was sure was happening in front of Erik. Perhaps he sensed this, somehow.

"I'm not abandoning you. I just think you probably want to see this part on your own. You can share any of it with me later, if you like. And I'll be there, on the outside, protecting you," he continued.

"Thanks, Erik. Look, do you all have any expert curse breakers on the Auror Force? For, you know, the Imperius thingy?" I asked.

"Of course. No problem. I can take you down there tomorrow to get it done," he began. "Look. All you have to do is call me, you know, if it gets bad? If you need me." He paused, with a very strange look on his face. "And after we go to the city tomorrow to meet up with our curse breaker," and he turned so that his back was facing the bed, "I'd like to invite you to a little place I know. I think you'll enjoy it. No pressure—just a few drinks and some good music. Oh, and there are tons of places to get food nearby. You'll need to eat after the curse gets removed, anyway. Are you interested?"

Was he asking me for a date? Surely not. _My, it never rains but it pours, does it_, I thought.

Erik blushed. "I just realized what that must have sounded like. I'm sorry Rowan, I didn't mean it to be anything other than an offer to go and have a good time. Not like that," he gestured behind him, toward the bed. "But I think we could both use a few drinks, just as friends. Hey, it's the Norse way, you know," he finished, with a smile. Then he reached for his wand, waved it, and disappeared out of the Pensieve.

I held up my wand in order to start the Pensieve again, and paused for a moment. A disquieting revelation overcame me, the one I hadn't wanted to admit to in front of Erik, and which Erik had somewhat obliquely confirmed. The Imperius Curse variant that Malfoy had used had merely impelled past-Rowan to go along with things after this evening was over. It had not specifically implied any sort of enjoyment, and certainly not enthusiasm. And it did not seem to me as if I had been going along with events grudgingly. Somewhere between the application of the Curse and the beginning of his attentions, I had clearly decided that I liked what Malfoy was doing. As I pondered this, the memory of it ran over in my mind and my stomach gave a funny little lurch, and my heart leaped. This was not the reaction I should have had to a brutal assault, not at all.

I waved my wand and ran the Pensieve back to where Malfoy had said "Do you like it rough, Rowan, the way Severus likes it? I certainly hope so. After we finish here, I want to watch him take you." I wanted to watch carefully, to see if I had missed anything. Something to explain why I had given in so easily, perhaps. Did Malfoy have Veela blood, I thought?

He slowly lowered past-Rowan to the bed and began kissing down the length of her/me, sliding his hands in slow circles over her/my body. He was murmuring words that I couldn't hear from my vantage point. Past-Rowan sighed with pleasure and slid her/my hands over his hair. I got up and walked closer to the bed so that I could hear what he was saying, and "rewound" the Pensieve again.

"Ummmm, so soft, so lovely…Snape doesn't deserve you, you know. I can give you so much more than he can. I can take you places that he cannot even imagine. I can bring you to Elysium. We can conquer anything with our combined ecstasy…..open to me, Rowan…..join with me….." As he said this, and as past-Rowan closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure, he was closely examining the "enchanted dog tag." Ah. So he had noticed it. He continued murmuring, "Take my pleasure….and, in return, give me pleasure, submit to me," as he slid the flat of his tongue over her/my clitoris. "You are my moonchild, and you have merely been dancing in the shallows of a river," he intoned. "Come with me and I shall sweep you away on a mighty torrent," he groaned. As he did this, he turned around so that he positioned the head of his erect prick against past-Rowan's mouth, and slowly slid it past her/my lips.

As I did so, the eerie voice of past-Severus echoed in my mind. "_Resist him! Rowan, my love, you must resist him! Please!_" This was the point at which I had turned around and begun to watch, earlier.

Severus continued. "_Sweet Mithras, my love, please resist him! You must! Let me help you! Use the tag! Connect with me! PATEO-uhhhhhh_." and the voice of past-Severus suddenly stopped. Almost immediately after that, past-Rowan came to a very loud, clearly very intense climax, whilst screaming "Lucius!" at the top of her lungs. Malfoy reached out his left hand, and his wand flew into it. He then withdrew himself and positioned himself over past-Rowan, and slowly slid the wand down past-Rowan's body, down between her/my legs, where he slowly stroked it over the throbbing flesh there. "Feel it-feel my power," growled Malfoy. "ACCRETIO VOLUPTAS! SENSUS INCREDIBILIS!" Past-Rowan groaned with pleasure. Malfoy raised the wand, brought the tip to his mouth, and licked it with his long, pink tongue. I had to admit that he was attractive—he was not thin, like Severus, or overly muscular, like Macnair. He was somewhere in between; he was absolutely perfect. His body was lightly covered with platinum hair in all the right places. And his cold grey eyes added just the right touch of hauteur.

"Delicious," he pronounced. "I think it's time, Rowan," he added. "Do you want me?"

"Yes," whispered past-Rowan. "Gods, yes." I shuddered with the memory. I had consented, then. I had betrayed Severus. I had let my own attraction to the Dark seduce me, both literally and figuratively. Maybe those spells he'd said had something to do with it, but still…

"Shall I lift my wand and wave you, through hill to hill of delight," Malfoy murmured, sliding his hand down between past-Rowan's legs, spreading her/me apart. "Shall my rosy rivers lave you, in innermost lustral light?" He paused, and ran his wand over the empurpled head of his prick (which was, as promised, quite large and quite hard), intoning, "Sustenio!" He reached over and tapped his wand three times against the nearby bedpost. Then he moved the wand down between past-Rowan's legs again and tapped three times, while quietly muttering—perhaps on the rings? I couldn't tell.

As he turned and sent his wand flying out of his hand to a bedside table that I hadn't previously noticed, I saw the Mark on his arm again, and this brought me back from my reverie. I had to remember where I was, I had to remember that this man was evil, I thought to myself. No matter how attractive I found him. Was this what Severus had meant by resisting him?

He had his hand on his erection and was sliding it over past-Rowan's sodden entrance, while asking, yet again, "Do you want it now?"

"Yes," sighed past-Rowan.

"Will you do anything for me? Are you mine?" he asked.

"Yes, Lucius," she/I responded. What could I possibly have been thinking? He had to have been using another mind control technique of some sort, one that wasn't readily apparent. Was it a Veela trick, perhaps? I didn't know much about them, as they were mostly found in Europe (although it was rumored that many of the greatest New York fashion models had Veela blood).

Then he abruptly plunged himself into past-Rowan with a prolonged sigh of ecstasy. He pulled past-Rowan so that he faced her, in a side-to-side position. He began to rock his hips, and past-Rowan twined her/my legs around him to pull him closer. "Oh Lucius!" groaned past-Rowan, clearly at the point of orgasm already. "Gods, yes. Harder!"

"Mmmmm, yes," replied Malfoy, chuckling at her response as he thrust harder and harder. "You want more, hmmmm?"

"Yes, oh please, yes, more…ahhhhhh, oh Gods, more!"

The door, next to me, opened silently. Macnair entered and closed the door, and took in the scene, a leer on his face. And as I watched him approach the bed and slide his hand down over the tented front of his robes, I realized what Malfoy had just done. First, of course, he had called Macnair to the room, with the three taps to the bedpost. But the other three taps, and the mutter—_he had neutralized Severus' ownership tag._ It had obviously been charmed to protect specifically against him. The thought Severus had been trying to send before he was cut off obviously concerned that. I couldn't help but wish that Severus had thought to do so for Macnair, as well, as it would have saved a lot of trouble. The executioner was probably not as accomplished as a wizard to have figured out the tag's purpose. As I thought this, I observed the large man shrug out of his robes and climb up behind the entwined couple, on Rowan's side.

"I promised you more, Rowan, and I shall deliver on that promise," groaned Malfoy. "Take her from behind, Walden," he said, "And do prepare her first," he added. Some small comfort. Macnair complied. Past-Rowan gave a high, keening wail as she felt Macnair's slick hugeness invade her. "Oh GODS!" she/I cried, and shuddered against Malfoy, orgasming around him. "Oh Merlin, you feel so good," groaned Malfoy. "Och, lass, so fucking tight," grunted Macnair, and he began thrusting into past-Rowan. She/I convulsed again and again and screamed aloud in prolonged ecstasy as the two Death Eaters continued their work. With nearly simultaneous cries of pleasure, both eventually climaxed, Macnair reaching his peak first.

Very slowly, all recovered. Macnair was the first to withdraw himself. Sitting up, he retrieved his wand and performed a cleaning charm on himself and past-Rowan, and then sat up, leaning back on the pillows, an expression of satisfaction on his face. "Lucius, Snape, hasna made the potion yet. And the sneaky bastard was tryin' somethin'—some kind of curse, I could tell. So I Stunned him and tied him up, and left him out there with the others," said Macnair.

Malfoy grimaced and stretched a bit, and then slowly withdrew himself as well, gently positioning past-Rowan next to him. "Well, go back out there and get him to make the potion, Walden! I've performed a charm so that I'll be able to fuck repeatedly, but without that bastard's concoction, I won't be able to come each time." He picked up past-Rowan's hand and kissed it. "And this one will need some of it as well, if she wants to keep up with us," he added.

Macnair yawned, stretched, and got up off the bed. "Very well." He reached for his robe and Malfoy stopped him. "Don't bother with that. Perhaps it will encourage him to work faster so that he can come in and join us. Eventually," he finished, with a smirk.

* * *

More Latin from this former student:

Pateo - open

Accretio – increase

Voluptas – pleasure

Sensus – sense

Incredibilis – incredible, unbelievable

Sustenio – hold up, sustain, endure

Lucius' words are adapted from Aleister Crowley's "Hymn to Dionysus," (one of "Uncle Al's" tamer poetic offerings!) from The ORIFLAMME, Vol. I, No. I, February 21, 1943. Some readers will note that I make an oblique reference, as well, to Crowley's novel MOONCHILD, which concerns a magickal battle between the Light and the Dark.

The 'magical dog tag' is originally from chapter 14 of Dark Redemption, which is entitled, appropriately enough, "Bagged and Tagged."

And the Malfoy/Veela idea comes from the "Lack of Morals" story arc by Kat Reitz, which is quite a good read (warning: contains slash!). Again, I am not sure if this is currently available on this site.


	10. Chapter 10 – In Which Rowan

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

Folks, once again, this chapter has serious squick potential. You have now been officially warned! And if you are still with me, please let me know what you think so far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 10 – In Which Rowan Gets her Groove Back, Eventually  
**

Macnair padded out of the room and shut the door behind him. Malfoy turned to past-Rowan and took her in his arms. "Well. Hopefully he'll take a while with that, so we can be alone." He began to kiss her/my neck. "Did you enjoy that? You sounded as if you did."

Past-Rowan sighed with pleasure and slid her arms around Lucius. I squirmed. "Oh yes," she/I responded. "It was unbelievable."

"Mmmmm. Just wait until you attend one of my Revels, little Moonchild," and he chuckled softly as he continued to kiss her/me. And he continued to do so for quite a while, and then I watched as the couple rolled around on the bed, and before long, loud cries of passion echoed through the room as multiple climaxes were achieved. I had to admit that I "fast-forwarded" the Pensieve a bit toward the end. And afterwards they lay, sated, for a while, caressing and kissing each other. Malfoy conjured a bottle of something, and they drank from it in silence as they lay together under the bedclothes, past-Rowan's head cradled on Malfoy's chest. They dozed for a little while after that.

A disquieting revelation overcame me as the minutes passed by. I had not ever put my memories of the first weekend that I had spent with Severus, two years ago, into a Pensieve in order to review them, of course. Thus, I had no way of comparing them objectively with the events I now viewed. However, it seemed to me that there was no comparison, really—all the times I had spent with Severus, all of the pleasures we had shared—all of that was nothing compared to this. Under the Imperius Curse (or at least I hoped it was the Curse's influence), past-me was clearly having the time of her/my life. With Lucius Malfoy.

And what had he meant, anyway, about all these 'favors' he'd done for Severus?

Macnair reentered the room quietly, and tapped Malfoy on the shoulder. The two spoke together in low whispers, and then Macnair (after retrieving a drink for himself) exited again. Malfoy lay back on the pillows, attempting not to disturb the still-sleeping past-Rowan. I lifted my wand and began to give the command necessary to speed up the pace a bit, but stopped when I saw the door open. Macnair reentered. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle flanked Severus, whose hands were bound together. A cauldron floated in front of him. The two goons backed out of the room after they made sure that Severus was inside, and closed the door behind them.

Malfoy roused. Keeping his arms around past-Rowan, he looked up and said, "Ah. Severus. Nice of you to join us again."

Severus had a scowl on his face, the one that he normally reserved for use during conversations about particularly inept Potions students. "Spare me, Lucius. I have finished your potion. You and Macnair and I need to drink it now, and then I shall slightly adapt it for—for…Rowan's use." His voice broke a bit during this last phrase.

"Certainly, Severus, certainly. You drink first, of course," said Malfoy, sliding the covers off himself and easing out of the bed. After he did so, he rearranged the covers over past-Rowan and gave her a gentle kiss on the mouth. She/I stirred, and kissed him back.

Severus growled and clenched his fists. "I cannot do so unless you free my hands, Lucius." And in my mind, I heard him say, "_Rowan! Has he harmed you in any way?"_

"Walden, watch him carefully, would you?" responded Malfoy.

"_Rowan! Please answer me! My love, are you all right?"_ came past-Severus' thoughts.

Macnair didn't say a word as he waved his wand casually in Severus' direction. After the ropes disappeared from his hands, Severus reached into the cauldron, lifted up the ladle, and drank. He then handed the ladle to Macnair, who took a long draught. Malfoy walked over and drank his as well. Severus then approached the cauldron and nodded at Macnair, who withdrew a small bottle from the pocket of his robe and emptied the contents into the swirling mass.

"_Rowan! Please! Can you hear me? Please answer me_," and past-Severus' thoughts began to sound rather panicky.

Malfoy went over to the bed and helped past-Rowan up, and then over to the cauldron, where she accepted the ladle from Severus. He looked at her and said nothing aloud, but the thought he sent nearly made my ears bleed.

"_ROWAN! PLEASE ANSWER ME! SWEET MITHRAS, __**WHAT**__ HAS HE DONE TO YOU? Oh Gods, I'll kill him. I'LL KILL HIM!"_

"Severus, shut up, would you," remarked Lucius. "She can't hear you. I've closed that off."

"What?" asked Macnair. "What the hell are ye on about, Lucius?!"

"Lucius, you have gone too far," said Severus, and he began to advance on Malfoy. Macnair grabbed Severus' arm. "I don't think so, Snape. Go and sit down," and he shoved him roughly toward the bed.

"And do get undressed, Severus, I can feel this concoction of yours starting to work. I want to watch you and Walden take Rowan," added Malfoy.

"No, Lucius, I will _not_ do it. I've had enough of this for tonight," responded Severus, and he stood up and advanced on Malfoy again.

"Then you shall watch us," responded Malfoy. "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" and Severus fell over to the floor, Petrified. Malfoy then created a chair (which, ironically enough, was close to where I sat) and levitated the stock-still Severus into it. He then bound him to the chair with snakelike ropes. "I'll leave you like that, as you won't be able to close your eyes," Malfoy remarked, as he led past-Rowan back over toward the bed. Macnair followed.

"Oh, I almost forgot," said Malfoy, and he turned and pointed his wand toward Severus and muttered something, quietly.

"What did ye just do there, Lucius?" asked Macnair, who took the opportunity to pull past-Rowan toward him and kiss her.

"Well, Walden, I Unpetrified one part of him, so he could properly enjoy things. I'm not as cruel as everyone seems to think I am. And Severus, if you behave, I may just release your right hand, as well," he finished, as he moved up behind past-Rowan and slid his hand down over her back.

And then the rest of the evening ensued, and all I can say is that what had happened before paled in comparison. Every possible coupling that possibly could have occurred did, for what seemed like hours, and Severus sat there mutely through all of it. He sent no more thoughts to past-Rowan. And despite Malfoy's Unpetrification, he did not get visibly excited. As he had obviously taken the same powerful lust potion as all of the others in the room, this was a clear testament to his will.

I paced around the room during some of the events, but I watched it all. When Malfoy used his serpent-headed cane to inflict a bit of punishment, I cringed a bit, but past-Rowan seemed to enjoy it. When he produced a wicked-looking knife, which he ran slowly over past-Rowan's breasts and belly, drawing blood, I cringed, but again, past-Rowan seemed to enjoy it—even when both he and Macnair licked it all off her.

This was far worse than anything I could have even imagined. There had been no assault. I had gone along with all of it. It may not have been _exactly_ willingly, but I had gone along with it. Oh Gods. Now I knew why Severus had performed the Memory Charm.

But the very worst part was toward the end, when Macnair had stepped away for a rest break. Malfoy picked up his wand from the bedside table and advanced on past-Rowan, who was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, clearly in a state of post-coital bliss.

"Little Moonchild. I have one last thing I wanted to take care of," murmured Malfoy, "Open your legs for me." Past-Rowan complied. "EXTRACTUM INCANTATEM!" he intoned, while pointing his wand at Severus' tag. He paused for a moment, considering, then said, "INDUCO!" One last pause, and then he finished with "EXARO NOMINATUM Lucius Malfoy!"

Had he done what I thought he had done? I was obviously going to have to study up a bit more on Latin, but it sounded as if Malfoy had written his name on the tag! I glanced over at past-Severus, who was still Petrified. His eyes were flashing and looked both angry and sad at the same time. He knew.

Malfoy leveled his wand at Severus and said, lazily, "Obliviate!" Severus' eyes grew blank for a moment, then refocused. Then he continued on with "Finite Incantatem!" Severus slumped in the ropes that bound him to the chair. He took a long, gasping breath. "Are you quite done, Lucius? Have you any further humiliations to inflict on me?" he managed, in a quiet voice.

"No, Severus. You may take Rowan now and go." He tapped his wand three times on the bedpost and then moved the green robe that he had created for past-Rowan toward her so that she/I could re-don it.

Macnair reentered. "Walden, show our guests to the door, would you," said Malfoy. "Rowan, my dear, it has been an absolute delight." He kissed past-Rowan's hand. "Severus, I do wish I could say the same. However, I must say I am now completely convinced of your loyalty to our cause." Macnair, none too gently, removed the ropes that bound Severus. "And after you put them out, be sure to return their wands to them, would you," added Malfoy, as he reclined on the pillows. .

Macnair shoved Severus and pulled Rowan by the arm into the other room, and then Disapparated them to the Diagon Alley apartment (where I, of course, watching in the Pensieve) followed. Avery followed with the two wands in his hand. He dropped them on the table next to the wreckage of the charmed CD player. Both Death Eaters Disapparated. Severus picked up his wand and mechanically began to put up Apparition wards.

I figured this was as good a time as any for a break, so I paused the Pensieve and emerged into the circle. Erik looked at me and started to say something, but I held up a hand to him, allowed Inanna to cut me a door, and ran to the bathroom. There, I locked the door and charmed it. After I had taken a short break, I bent over to examine my "magical dog tag," which hung (and had hung) from the ring in my right outer labia for two years, since Severus had insisted on putting it there. I had not been happy about it at the time, but over the years, I had gotten used to it. He would, from time to time, pay special attention to it, and as it seemed to reassure him more than anything else, I had not ever asked him to remove it.

During the recent months Severus and I had spent apart, of course, I had begun seeing it as an increasing annoyance. I had written an anonymous letter to the _Daily Prophet_, as Severus had noticed, asking for advice on how to remove it after one fruitless evening spent trying to do so. However, even when I attempted to remove it, I never checked its appearance—it hurt too much for me to see Severus' name at the time. And on the night that Severus and I had been together last month, just prior to my trip to Massachusetts, he had not checked it either. There really hadn't been all that much time, as I recalled. And Malfoy had given Severus a Memory Charm, clearly specifically about the tag. So he did not know.

I waved my wand to make the room a bit brighter, took a deep breath, and looked carefully at the tag.

A serpent twined around it, as always. But the serpent's appearance had subtly changed—it had larger fangs, for one. And so had the writing.

"Property of Lucius Malfoy."

I stared at the tag, and as I did, I cracked. "Enough! This is lame," I said. "I'm not ANYONE's friggin' property, but especially not Malfoy's. I've had more than enough of this shit. My ancestors didn't move to America for this damn crap! That fucking son of a bitch! That—that silver-tongued devil! Who in the _hell_ does he think he is!" I ranted on like this for a few minutes until I heard noises from the other side of the door.

"Rowan! Rowan! Are you all right in there? Open up, or I'm coming in!" It was Erik.

"Erik, I'll be out in a moment—I'm fine. Why the HELL can't everyone just leave me alone?" I shouted. And then I thought better of my last statement, rearranged myself, washed my hands and splashed some cold water on my face, and opened the door.

"Because we care about you, dammit!" said Erik, but he had a smile on his face. "I heard you shouting in there. I'm not going to ask for details, OK? Do you need me to come back inside the Pensieve with you?"

"No, I think the show's almost over. I just had a nasty shock, and I don't really want to talk about it. It's—well, it's personal. I think the curse breaker might be able to help me with it," I added.

* * *

Today's Latin Class follows.

Extractum incantatem-remove enchantment

Induco-to erase writing

Exaro-write on tablet

Nominatum-by name, expressly


	11. Chapter 11 – Eponymous

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

This is a long chapter, folks! I have more surprises in store for you. Please, let me know what you think.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 11 – Eponymous  
**

Erik gave me a quick hug and said, "Great. So we're still on for tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't miss it," I said, as I walked back into the room. Inanna admitted me to the circle, and then she gave me a hug, as well. "Kid, there's more," she said, after we released each other.

"I don't like the sound of _that_," I began. "Please, tell me you're joking."

"I wouldn't joke about this." And Inanna, indeed, looked more serious than I had ever seen her. "You know I'm on Astral Duty this week; that's how I found that other lock, the snake one. Well, I just went up there for the hourly check, and there's another door, with yet another lock. It was located in a different part of the Temple, that's why I didn't see it before."

"Calloo, callay, oh frabjous day," I said. "Another lock. Just what I wanted. What does this one have on it, Voldemort's head?" I was in serious need of some grounding, clearly.

"I can't believe you just said that, Rowan," interjected Erik.

"Like I care at this point? So, what does this one look like," I sighed.

"Well, it's not like the other one, not really. It has a castle on it. And it's black," said Inanna, pulling at a strand of her hair. It was still green, just as it had been at the Quidditch World Cup, an aeon ago.

"A castle? Like Hogwarts? Maybe Dumbledore put it there," I mused. But at the same time, that did not ring true to me. It didn't seem in character for him, and why would his lock be dark, considering that his name, alchemically speaking, meant "white"?

"Ya know," began Inanna, "It reminded me of something, and I'm not sure what. Like a dream, or maybe—a Muggle movie, or a TV show. Something I saw with Frieda once." Frieda was one of Inanna's former girlfriends—a WWF wrestler turned car mechanic. The relationship had ended badly. I was surprised that Inanna was even able to mention Frieda's name. "She liked all that sword-and-sorcery crap, like Conan the Barbarian. And I always had to hold my tongue about the magic parts, you know. Let me think a minute-It was Scottish! The Highlander. It reminds me of the Highlander! There can be only one! Did you ever see it, Rowan?"

My Muggle media experiences were eclectic, but somewhat limited. "No," I said.

"I saw that movie!" said Erik. "It was pretty kick-ass, but the magic part was wrong, of course, like always."

"Guys, this is all very interesting, and I'll have to see the movie sometime, but—what the hell does this all have to do with the lock?" I had to admit that I was puzzled.

"I'm saying that the lock reminded me of the Highlander, that's all," said Inanna, drawling a bit, and slowly, as if I hadn't heard her the first time.

"Dammit! What the—" Wait. Scottish. Highlands. Castle. Dark. "There wasn't anything else on the lock, was there, like maybe a snake or—or an axe, or something?" What had Inanna said—there can be only one? Obviously not in this case, even though Malfoy had been fairly explicit in his instructions, hadn't he? Well, they were both Slytherins, after all.

"Why an axe—" asked Inanna, and then she paused, the light having obviously come on.

"It's got to be Macnair," I said. "It couldn't be anyone else. Gods! This is all I need," I said. At least he hadn't charmed the dog tag, I thought. At least not as far as I knew—yet.

"Shall we?" said Erik, extending an arm.

"I've got to eat something first," I said. "I'll blow up the whole place if I go with you now."

So, after sufficient sustenance, the two of us (Erik, again, in his Viking garb) ascended to the Astral Temple, where we blew up yet another lock and I walked into yet another room massed with more of my missing memories. I tapped my wand on my forehead to hold them in place (at Erik's suggestion) and together we returned them to the Pensieve, where their strands interwove with all the others.

And then, alone again, I went to the Pensieve to view them.

I returned to the old Diagon Alley apartment, at the point where Severus was putting up wards. Why he was bothering was anyone's guess, as the barn door had not merely been opened, it had been completely removed, and all of the horses had long since dispersed to parts unknown. I sat down in the armchair near the window to watch the events. This, I knew, was the time when Severus would eventually cast his Memory Charm.

"Rowan," said Severus, as he finished with the wards and helped past-Rowan to the couch, where he pulled a blanket around her/my shoulders. "Here, let me cover you up." Past-Rowan was trembling. "I shall get you some hot chocolate," he said.

"No! Please, no. I just want to sleep. Please let me sleep!" said past-Rowan. "And don't touch me!" She/I was breathing very rapidly and looked panicked.

"My love—you should drink the chocolate first, before you sleep. It will help you!" Severus reached up and brushed a stray lock of his hair that was hanging over his eyes.

"You're trying to slip me something! I don't want it! Go away, just go away!" Past-Rowan was sounding increasingly crazed. Knowing that such a reaction was a result of Malfoy's Imperius curse didn't make things any better.

"Allow me to help you! I must!" Severus was sounding a bit crazed himself.

"The only thing that you MUST do is get out of here, right now!" yelled past-Rowan. I cringed.

"This is all Malfoy's fault, I know it! I should have never—oh Merlin, why didn't I just kill him when I had the chance," said Severus. "What did that—that—" he sputtered a series of incoherent curses, apparently unable to come up with an insult suitable for Malfoy. He paced back and forth in front of the fireplace.

"Don't talk about Lucius like that!" yelled Rowan.

"This is an outrage! What did….Lucius….do to you?" responded Severus, making Malfoy's name sound like a curse.

"Nothing I didn't want done! Now get your vampire ass out of here, right now, so I can sleep!" Past-Rowan had pushed the blanket off onto the floor and stood up, and was advancing on Severus.

"HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT, WOMAN! I AM NOT A VAMPIRE! Why do-….I—oh, for Mithras' sake, I do not see the need to explain any of that right now," and with those words, he gave a long sigh and sat down in the armchair where I had been sitting, clutching at its arms briefly with his long fingers. (I had scurried out of the way when I saw him coming. Although I knew he wouldn't notice my presence, it just seemed weird.) "Accio!" and with those words, Severus' wand flew to his hand. "I am sorry for this, Rowan," he said, and with a swish and flick and an "Obliviate," that particular thread in the Pensieve ended.

I knew what happened next, as I remembered it. While I considered the subsequent events, I paused the Pensieve and walked around the room, staring at the frozen figures of Severus, still with his wand in the air, and past-Rowan, her/my eyes blank, memories headed off to the first room in the Astral Temple—the one which Rhiannon and I had opened, over a month ago.

After the Memory Charm, Severus had gently tended me for two days, administering healing draughts and slowly explaining what had happened. His version of the story was thus: Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle and Avery had magically broken into the Diagon Alley apartment and had taken both of us away, where Macnair assaulted me. He did not mention that Malfoy was there. He then took me to Hogwarts, where Madam Pomfrey, sworn to secrecy and staring daggers at Severus the entire time, looked me over. Due to a charmed ring that I had crafted several years prior at the Institute, and not yet removed, I was not able to conceive, for which I was grateful. (I had been planning to remove it shortly, as Severus and I had discussed children). We had several long discussions with Dumbledore. I grew increasingly angry toward Severus during the talks, feeling that he had not done enough to protect me. During the last, disastrous talk, I had thrown my handfasting ring and the snake pendant (that matched his) in Severus' face, and started to storm out of the room. Dumbledore had stopped me, and implored me to be civil to Severus. I said I would, but he shouldn't expect much more from me than that.

During this time, I had somehow managed to prepare for the Apothecary's opening, and had done so on the Fall Equinox, as planned. I hired Morgaine and Ruthven. And I moved into the Hogsmeade house, but unpacked only a few essentials, planning to return to Massachusetts as soon as possible. I sent monthly sums to Severus via his owl for rent on both the store and the house. And Severus, for his part, tried to contact me only once. Dumbledore mediated the entire meeting. It was not a success. In between my bouts of yelling and ranting, I managed to learn only that Macnair had been essentially stalking me, using Polyjuice Potion. This meeting had occurred prior to Samhain, and Severus had not attempted contact again until that night last month. I never saw him in Hogsmeade. I overheard conversations about the Triwizard Tournament and figured that was keeping him busy. And I had spent the majority of my nights alone (either at the store, at the house, or the Three Broomsticks) for over three months—or so I thought at the time. Clearly, I had not.

I had to know. I restarted the Pensieve.

And after that, the memories displayed themselves to me in odd little snippets..they were obviously the ones that had been hidden by the Arcanum curse. I observed the evenings spent with Lucius Malfoy. After the first several instances, a routine of sorts was established. He would come to the store after it closed, or to the house, or, even once or twice, we met at the Three Broomsticks. This would happen about twice a week. We'd go to the bedroom and have a lot of sex, and occasionally share some wine and food, and that was pretty much it. The conversations mainly consisted of extremely vague and non-committal endearments on his part, and sighs on mine. By my observations of the store, about three weeks had passed.

Another memory appeared after several Lucius-filled evenings. Past-Rowan was in the store, alone. It was difficult to tell what day it was, but it was some time in the afternoon, judging by the light that streamed in through the windows. An old witch, who looked somewhat familiar, approached the counter and past-Rowan asked her if she/I could be of some assistance.

"Fiat Obscurus! What are your store's hours?" asked the old witch.

"Six days a week, 10-6, closed Sundays," Past-Rowan answered automatically. I had wanted different hours, but Severus, knowing how things went in Hogsmeade, had suggested these. I hadn't bothered to change them, even though we weren't speaking. Wait—what had she said?

"And what day does Mr. Malfoy arrive?" How could she have known that? This woman must be some sort of spy, I thought, but why would Malfoy need a spy to know when he himself arrived?

"Two days. Tuesdays and Thursdays, at 6:30," Past-Rowan answered.

"Two days, eh?" said the witch, leering at me with eyes that seemed somehow familiar. "Plenty of time left on your schedule, dearie. Be here at 6:30 on Saturday." And with that, she tottered out of the shop.

_What had __**that**__ been about?_ I wondered. Then, the Pensieve abruptly jumped to another scene.

Past-Rowan was in the store, behind the counter, sitting on a chair, reading a book. I couldn't see the title. Several candles sat on the counter providing light, as it appeared to be quite dark outside. A knock sounded at the door. Past-Rowan got up, put down the book, picked up one of the candles, and went to the door. There appeared to be no one there. Past-Rowan opened the door and looked around.

I made a mental note to myself to never do that again. I was reminded of the stupid doomed teenaged heroines of Muggle horror movies. Come to think of it, my life these days resembled one, sinister hooded villains and all.

"Hello?" said past-Rowan. "Is anyone there? Professor Snape, is that you?" she continued, angrily. I had steadfastly refused to call him anything but that during those months, knowing how he hated hearing it from me.

"Nay, it isna," and with those words Macnair appeared from under an Invisibility Cloak.

"What—aren't you—" past-Rowan paused, clearly mystified. Didn't I recognize Macnair, I thought—then I remembered. Severus' Memory Charm. And Malfoy's Curse. Both had worked to make my mind operate in an impaired state. And the Gods only knew which one had done exactly what. Thinking about it was enough to give me a headache.

"Right," said Macnair. "FIAT OBSCURUS!" He paused. "Aye, I know that Lucius put that one on ye, but I didna appreciate the way he took me out of the picture. He's always underestimated me, always! Uncultured brute, indeed," he growled, and looked around the shop. "And Snape! Unlike him, I didn't have to _buy_ me heritage! I'm sorry, lass…do ye remember me now?" he asked, apparently having figured out that past-Rowan was more than a little confused.

"You're Walden," she/I said.

"Aye," he responded. "And I was the one who went to all that trouble to find ye in the first place. That Polyjuice Potion is disgustin'! All Lucius did was sit on his arse, as usual, and tell me what to do. I figure that I deserve a little reward after all that. Come with me," And he took past-Rowan's arm and started to lead her out the door.

"I—I have to lock up my shop!" past-Rowan protested.

"O' course," he said, as he waved his wand and locked the door behind them. "There. Now come on. I performed three executions today and I need to unwind. And ye are going to help me. Doona worry, I'll bring ye back tomorrow—I know yer shop is closed then." Ah. So, the old witch had been there at his behest. Or perhaps he had been the old witch, Polyjuiced. I wondered how it felt for a man to Polyjuice into a woman's body, and made a mental note to ask Severus—if we ever spoke again, that is. I was beginning to have my doubts, even as I missed him terribly.

As the pair Disapparated, the Pensieve scene shifted to the back courtyard of the Leaky Cauldron.

"We can't go in here," past-Rowan protested. "Tom knows me!" WHY had I said that? I could have saved myself all sorts of trouble. Macnair had clearly figured out how to crack Lucius' Imperius curse variant, and was planning to use past-Rowan for—Gods knew what. The only thing that made me feel any sort of relief is that I was clearly still alive.

"Very well, then," growled Macnair. "Have it yer way, but it's nae as nice down here," and again, he Apparated himself and past-Rowan, this time to Knockturn Alley. He had a point, I mused, staring around at the grim-looking storefronts. Like any other Diagon Alley merchant, of course, I had made several trips to its Dark counterpart, sometimes out of necessity and sometimes out of curiosity. Ambrosius had actually sent me down here the first week I had worked for him to get some sort of ingredient from the Apothecary located there. When Severus had heard about this errand, he had been furious, I recalled.

Macnair led past-Rowan down the street to a disreputable-looking pub called The Claw and Stang. None of the passers-by appeared to pay them any attention. The front window of the place was black and greasy with candle smoke. The sign dangled asymmetrically from one chain, its other chain apparently having broken at some point. The interior of the place was not much better. I was glad to be in the Pensieve, as the place looked as if it smelled bad. An old wizard with thinning black hair and a grizzled chin with a large wart on it, who was tending bar, greeted Macnair unctuously and enthusiastically-he was practically groveling. Maybe he had an illegal pet stashed away somewhere, I thought.

"Why, Mr. Macnair, sir! It's an honor to have such a distinguished Ministry official as yourself here! And your lovely lady! Here, let me show you to a table!" Whipping a greasy rag from his pocket, the elderly man toddled over to a table in front of the window and wiped it off, then pulled out a chair for past-Rowan. The rest of the tables were customer-free. It definitely looked like the sort of place where an executioner would be considered a distinguished guest.

"Not here, Vindictus, I want a room upstairs. And a plate of food, me usual order, and two bottles of Ogden's. Oh, and whatever the lassie will have, o'course," he finished, nodding toward Rowan.

"Er—mead? And some sandwiches?" said past-Rowan. _How could I have possibly been hungry or thirsty? Why wasn't I at least trying to escape!_ I realized I had been saying this last part out loud and stopped, feeling somewhat foolish.

"Come along, come along. I'll have your order brought right up," said the wizard, leading the two to a rickety staircase in a dark corner of the room. The second floor was just as dingy as the first. Taking a rusty ring of keys from his belt, the bartender opened the door to a room at the end of the hall and ushered us inside. Macnair waved his wand and the lamps lit, which was a shame, as the room would have looked much better in the dark. There was a large four-poster bed covered by a dusty comforter, a small table, a ratty-looking armchair, and a side door that presumably led to a washroom. A tiny, dirty curtainless window looked out over the darkness below. Clearly, this was the wizarding world equivalent of the No-Tell Motel. At least Malfoy had brought past-Rowan back to my/her own house, I thought.

Macnair reached into his money pouch and handed the bartender a stack of Galleons. "Bring up that order as soon as ye can, knock, and leave it outside. And don't disturb us tomorrow morning for any reason," he added. Oh Gods. The bartender bowed, accepted his payment, and backed quickly out of the room, shutting the door behind him. It was kind of weird being in there, as there wasn't much room for me. Macnair's elbow was uncomfortably close, and I had to remind myself that he could neither see nor hear me.

"Now, get on the bed and take off yer robes," he growled, as he took off his cloak. She/I sat down heavily on the comforter. A great cloud of dust billowed. Past-Rowan coughed, and hesitated in her task.

"Well, ye turned down the Leaky Cauldron, so there's nae point in complainin', lass!" said Macnair, chuckling, waving his wand to make the dust disappear. "This place is horrid, I know—we probably should have just gone to me lodge, but I'm sorry, I canna wait any more," he added. What was going on? He was joking, and being friendly? This had to be some sort of trick. "Come on, take 'em off, I want to see ye," and he gestured at past-Rowan's robes. After she complied, he removed his own robes. Without wasting any time, he climbed on top of past-Rowan, slid his hand down and opened her/my legs as far as they would go, and thrust into her/me.

"Ummmm," he grunted. "Ye're so sweet," and then he immediately began to thrust harder and faster. The bed began to creak and groan along with his movements. I feared that it might collapse. A knock sounded at the door.

Past-Rowan sighed with pleasure. "No!" I said aloud again, forgetting that no one could hear me. "Stop that! You can't possibly enjoy this! This guy is a jerk. He's evil! Start screaming or something!"

"Oh Gods…oh Walden," she/I sighed again. "Yes!" _That's not the kind of screaming I meant_, I thought, and sat down grimly in the moldy-looking armchair. Several more loud knocks came from the door.

"LEAVE IT OUTSIDE, I SAID!" Macnair grunted. "GO AWAY!" and with a very loud groan, he spent himself. The couple on the bed couldn't possibly have heard, as wrapped up in each other as they were, but I heard a series of cackles coming from outside the door. Great. The place had its own voyeurs, as well. The cackles continued as past-Rowan added insult to injury by sighing loudly, "Mmmmmmm, that was delicious, Walden." I jumped up and slammed my fist into the washroom door. "Shut UP, shut UP, shut UP!" I screamed.

"That's the best ride I've had in years, me lass…thank ye," he replied, withdrawing himself, and performing a Cleaning Charm. Then he stood up, threw his robes hastily over his head, and went to the door to retrieve the food tray, muttering about "the help these days." The executioner was a gentleman? This was almost beyond belief. "Why is he doing this?" I said aloud, to my nonexistent studio audience. "Why?"

Macnair sat the tray on the table. I jumped out of the armchair. "Come along and have some food with me," he said, to past-Rowan, as he sat down in the chair and opened one of the bottles of Firewhiskey.

And so began several Saturday evenings with Macnair—these memories were interspersed with the missing Tuesday and Thursday Malfoy evenings. But they were distinguished by the fact that Macnair had an enormous appetite for life, and seemed to be having fun during the evenings, strange as that may seem. And he and past-Rowan—he and I, I corrected myself—actually talked about all sorts of things (in between bouts of very energetic sex). And the discussions were interesting. Some were about Macnair's Hogwarts days, and what it had really been like to be a Slytherin (something which Severus had only alluded to with me). Macnair had been contemporaries with Malfoy—Severus was about ten years younger than both of them—so he did not meet Severus until he joined forces with Voldemort. And yes, he actually spoke frankly about his Death Eater days.

And considering that past, it was no surprise that he enjoyed his job; he seemed to revel in having the power of life and death for the condemned creatures. The only thing he didn't enjoy were the myriad government forms he had to sign and file because of each execution. And he seemed to have no conscience with regard to what he had done for Voldemort, and no qualms over stating that he had pretended to renounce his Dark alliance in order to escape Azkaban. I couldn't help thinking that Erik would have loved to hear all this, but I didn't move from my Pensieve perch to get him.

Apparently, Malfoy had seen the writing on the wall for the Dark Lord at about the same time Severus had. He approached his old school chum Macnair, swore him to secrecy, and told him his plan—to claim that they had been under the Imperius Curse the whole time. This highly dubious story was helped tremendously by the nighttime visits of both Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Macnair (neither of whom had taken the Dark Mark, and both of whom were rather young and vivacious), each clutching an enormous sack of Galleons, to the offices of the soon-to-be-Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

A few months later, Fudge was Minister, Malfoy was a respected philanthropist, and Macnair was a Ministry executioner, and both were cleared of all charges. And life had thus slithered on for both until I met them.

I wondered at Macnair's reasons for these revelations-perhaps he had never discussed his life with anyone else. Perhaps he saw me as a disinterested outside observer of some sort, although at this point I was certainly anything but. Either way, I was fascinated by the conversations, and spent what must have been hours listening. From time to time, I exited the Pensieve for breaks, but refused to speak to anyone.

At last, I caught up on all my missing memories, and some of them were even more disturbing and surprising than I'd anticipated. And although I now understood why Severus had chosen to perform the Memory Charm on me, I had no idea why on earth the two Death Eaters had insisted on seeing me after the event.

My mind drifted to my days spent in the Muggle punk rock community, after college and prior to the Institute. I had certainly seen (and participated in) more than a little casual sex during those years. When a new woman or man would arrive on the scene, she or he was seen as "the flavor of the month," and pursued energetically by all of the single folks (of either sex) until the novelty wore off. Was that what I was to Malfoy and Macnair, then? If so, I certainly wasn't going back.

Had I even thought of going back? Oh Gods. I certainly hoped that that thought was a result of the Imperius curse variant. I wondered if Rhiannon would be in the mood for some pastoral counseling. With that pleasant thought, I exited the Pensieve for the last time.

"So what you're telling me is, that, in addition to all this other crap, that Macnair, after that evening, came by the store and started to—" Erik grimaced.

"Yes. We apparently have been dating for the last two months." I looked down at the ground.

"Dating! You call that dating? Oh, come on! After what I saw him do to you, you actually-" Erik's grimace deepened.

"Don't forget, there was Malfoy, too." I mumbled. What else was I supposed to call the occurrences?

"You didn't say Malfoy, too, just then, did you? Tell me you didn't," said Erik. "Don't answer that. Shit. It was Imperius, then, right? Well, that's easy to fix. The curse breaker will take it off. Them off. You know what I mean. He'll make sure you don't have to—DATE—those fucking assholes any more!" His voice had gotten progressively louder during this entire recitation. He clenched his fists and began to pace back and forth.

"Well, yeah," I began. I had given him an extremely abbreviated version of the events. Some things were best kept private…especially the revelations about Severus.

"It's got to have the same effect as regular Imperius," said Erik, continuing to pace. "It's got to."

* * *

The title of this chapter is a rather horrendous pun...Sorry!

"Calloo, callay, oh frabjous day" – from "Jabberwocky," by Lewis Carroll

"The Highlander," of course, is an actual movie from 1985. I own a copy of it, but I have not seen any of the sequels (from what I've been told, though, part II sucked!) or the TV series.

I did some Scottish clan research, using Google, and there is a lot of information out there. This isn't that surprising to me, as I attend the annual Stone Mountain Highland Games here in Georgia every year. (Unfortunately, I don't know my own heritage, though!) Macnair, in Gaelic, was cited as meaning "the dark one." (I wonder if JKR did some of this same research; if so, I'm impressed!) The Macnair clan crest, which is shared by several other clans, is said to be a castle under attack. This seemed a little more appropriate than the first information I got, which stated that the family crest was, "Gold with a red lion rampant between three blue arrowheads." As I didn't want to confuse Macnairs with Gryffindors, I decided not to use this one!


	12. Chapter 12 – The Curse Breaker

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

Folks, this is yet another long chapter. Enjoy! And don't forget to review. I heart reviews.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 12 – The Curse Breaker, the Executioner, and the NYAF Blues  
**

"This variant on Imperius. Can you tell me a little more about it? I don't understand exactly how it works." I looked across the desk at the curse breaker. He wore robes (ones that Erik had informed me were standard NYAF issue), and he had thinning brown hair and very piercing blue eyes. His name was Mordechai Silverman. He was very down-to-earth, yet businesslike; and he looked very tired. Erik had left us alone for the duration of the interview and procedure.

"Well," began Silverman, "it's like this. The specific manifestations of Imperius Arcanum depend on many things. The strength of mind of the person it's cast on, for one. The connection between the caster and the castee is another important ingredient. The specific wording used during the casting—the instructions, as it were. Most of the times we've seen it used in the city, it's used to implant a specific task that will be done at a later date, when the Dark wizard invokes the trigger phrase. Let's say the wizard wants the victim to rob a bank. It's usually a Muggle bank, of course. Anyway, he implants the suggestion, waits until the day he wants the deed done, and then contacts the victim in some way. I've seen owls used, I've seen Muggle phone calls used, I've seen a third party who walks by and says the trigger phrase to the victim while they're walking down a street. Once, or so I've heard, there was even a billboard with the phrase on it, put up on a certain day right outside the victim's house." He paused and took a sip of his coffee. "Yuck. This sucks, as usual. I don't know why I keep drinking it."

I smiled and held up my still-full, and now cold, cup of the sludgy beverage.

"So, anyway, all this doesn't mean that the Arcanum variant can't be used in the same way as the regular Imperius curse. It can and it has been on many occasions. But the immediate results are not always as strong and obvious as with the regular curse. It's almost like it gets diluted by long-term use, or something. Are you getting me?"

"I'm getting you," I said. Loud and clear. So it was now confirmed, albeit somewhat obliquely. It was possible that at least some part of me had enjoyed all of the events-the dark part, my shadow self. The part of me that Severus had seen when we had first met. And, of course, the part of me that Malfoy had obviously seen…because the phrase he'd used, the particular trigger phrase….it meant, after all, "_Let there be darkness_." And perhaps Macnair had figured all of that out as well, as he'd implied, although he was probably pursuing me more as a result of Malfoy's interest than anything else.

Just then, there was a knock on Silverman's door. He excused himself to answer it; after he did, he then told me he'd be back in about ten minutes.

_Are you sure about Macnair?_ the voice in my head nagged, as I nodded at Silverman. The last time I had seen Macnair, it had been on the Saturday night right before Yule. Later that week, Severus had visited, and then I had left for Massachusetts. I had let the Pensieve memories play, without pausing or attempting to process them or examine my feelings. As I stared at the curse breaker's desk, I silently began my examination…

On that night, Macnair had Apparated us to the Muggle hotel in London that we usually frequented. After our evening together at the wretched Knockturn Alley establishment, we had mutually decided on another venue where it was unlikely that anyone either of us knew would see us. He was married after all; although he insisted (as most men in this situation usually did, of course) that it was a marriage of convenience, in name only. From what I had seen of the wizarding world, among the so-called "pureblood" families, this was not unusual. His wife had provided him with a son (and heir) as well as a daughter (the one who had been mentioned at the Quidditch World Cup). Both went to Hogwarts. Both were Slytherins. Macnair was pleased with the results, and after the children got into school, the couple proceeded to go their separate ways, while remaining married. I was actually surprised that he had bothered to tell me any of this—but as I may have mentioned, he was a man of contradictions. And as I conveniently forgot all of it until the next time I saw him again, I suppose he assumed it didn't matter.

He was also rather tireless in bed and after the third go-round, I looked up at him and said, "Can we have a little rest now, Walden? I'm rather tired."

"I'm tired as well, me lass," he responded, stretching and getting up out of bed. He Summoned a robe out of the bathroom and put it on, and walked over to the ever-present tray of food and drink. His "usual order" involved enough food for three men, and two bottles of whiskey (which, at this particular hotel, were rather small). And he never left any of it behind, either. Taking a long drink of the dark amber beverage (he had decimated most of the food earlier), he sat down heavily in the armchair. "I'm also tired of all this sneakin' around. I doona like bein' around Muggles," he groused.

"Yeah, I kind of gathered that," I said. It may sound strange that I spoke in this way to him, but he didn't seem to mind. He'd just laugh and make sarcastic comments in return. I had wondered during the evenings we were together if perhaps the mask and robe he had worn on our initial meeting hadn't affected him, just as Severus' garb had on the night before our handfasting. What had he said, that it was "_charged with Dark energy_"? Was I seeing the "real" Macnair?

"What gave it away?" he said, chuckling. "Rowan, I have something for ye. A present. You celebrate Yule, don't ye? It's a Yule present, then." I honestly couldn't believe what he was saying. Malfoy certainly hadn't given me any presents. Wasn't this just all about sex? Wasn't there supposed to be a curse on me, or something? Since when did such arrangements involve Yule presents? And what kind of presents did executioners give, anyway? Worse, was I supposed to return the favor? Was there a Dark wizard gift store in Knockturn Alley that might have a suggestion? Perhaps a set of knives?

"Ye doona need ta look so amazed. I told ye I wasn't an uncultured brute, as Lucius said. I could take it back," he finished, with a smirk.

"I didn't say that," I responded.

"Och…weell, here it is," he said, and holding up his wand, he floated a small box to my waiting hand. The box contained a bracelet, silver-colored, a cuff, with a raised serpent coiling around it. It was not an Ouroborus, to my relief. The snake's eyes were set with green stones. Didn't these guys ever buy anything that didn't feature a serpent motif? I was accumulating quite a collection.

As I admired it and fastened it on, he smiled. "I suppose Lucius hasn't given ye anythin'." He took another drink of his whiskey.

"You guessed it." _Nothing but a lot of empty promises_, I thought. During Macnair's visits, likely as a result of the Imperius variant, I remembered all of Malfoy's previous visits as well.

"That re-used tag of Snape's that ye're wearing doesna count," he added.

I didn't say anything. When I had reviewed this part in the Pensieve, I had flinched, having almost forgotten about Malfoy's name hanging there.

"Surely ye must know I'd seen it? It doesna bother me. Back in the old days, we all shared our wives. I suppose Snape forgot to tell you tha'?" He reclined in the chair and took another drink.

"Yeah. He left that part out."

"Well, he wasna married then, of course." Well, at least he hadn't left some ex-wife's existence out of his rather abbreviated stories, small relief as that was. "But he was practically married to that Gryffindor's memory," Macnair added. "And he was a regular participant in Lucius' Dark Revels until just before he met ye." He was not using a knife or an axe, but his words cut just as much.

"What Gryffindor? He told me that he hadn't been with anyone for years! He—he told me that when he, errrrr, when he got the urge, he went to Knockturn Alley," I said, in a near-whisper. Perhaps the Dark Revel attendance had been a spy mission, or something? And who was this Gryffindor?

Macnair chuckled. "I'm sure he did that as well. But the women there arena always as accommodating of his tastes as the Muggles at the Revels are…and Polyjuice only works for an hour at a time, ye know, and most women doona want to keep takin' it! He always was rather single-minded when it came to sex. I think it's a side effect of Salazar's charm. I suppose he didn't tell you about tha', either?"

"No," I said, staring at the bracelet. "He didn't." _No, he had just shown me one horrible night when he and you shared a woman!_ Who was Macnair to comment on tastes? But—but how did I even know it had been Macnair, really? All I had to go on was Severus' word, and he'd obviously left a _lot_ out of his stories. I was just about to cry, but I didn't want to do it in front of Macnair. "Er, who's this Gryffindor you mentioned?" I managed to croak.

"He never told ye about tha'? About Potter's mum?"

I dropped my glass of mead on the floor. "Who?"

Walden chuckled, and cleaned up the mess on the floor with his wand. "Of course ye know who I mean! Potter's mum. She was his friend in school and they had a fallin' out….probably because she was a Mudblood." He peered at me over his glass. "She looked a little like ye, come to think of it."

"Uh…..did she?" I honestly could think of nothing else to say. Did he actually mean _Harry Potter's_ mother? He couldn't. Perhaps there was another Potter out there.

Walden began to chuckle. "That's probably why he….why he did what he did, ye know. After he and Lucius set all that up!"

"What are you talking about, Walden? I don't….set _what_ up?" I pulled the covers up, because I was shivering.

"Ye know, set up tha' house and all that," Walden said, as he took another drink. "I told Lucius he shouldna have bothered, but Snape wasna much fun at the Revels, always on and on about his lost love…I guess Lucius got tired of hearin' him!"

"Walden," I started. "This….I've never heard anything about any of this from Severus. Isn't that his house? Why would he have to set anything up with Lucius?"

Walden sat his drink on the table next to the chair, tossed the robe aside, and climbed back in bed with me. He then took me in his arms and pulled me close against his chest.

"Rowan, lass, Snape hasna told ye the truth. Tha' manor house, the one you stayed in with him, belongs ta Lucius. His mum was a witch, went to Hogwarts and all, but he's a half-blood, and he's from a Muggle town near a….what do ye call it, a Muggle place, with a great huge chimney, where poor Muggles work like house-elves, makin' things…cloth, I think…"

"A…_factory_? Like, a factory town?" I thought of some of the road trips I'd made through the American South.

"Aye, that's it, it's called Spinney or somethin', canna remember. Only been there a couple o'times with Lucius. Horrid wee place, but he does have a lot of books."

"But…the car? And his rooms at the school?" I was shivering. Walden held me closer.

"Car?" Walden asked.

"Er, motorcar? Muggle conveyance?" _One of the very nicest Muggle conveyances_, in fact, I thought.

"Och, aye, that belongs ta Lucius, too, he keeps it at the Manor usually. He has business with Muggles and he says it gives the 'right impression' or some such," Walden said, and his impression of Lucius was so spot-on that I actually chuckled a bit, even through my overwhelming feelings of dismay and despair. "I doona know about Snape's rooms at the school, though," he added.

_They were probably under a glamour_, I thought. _Or perhaps there'd been something in that potion he gave me_. "So, you're saying he lied to me. About all of it. About the house, his parents….everything."

"No' everything….I know he bought tha' house in Hogsmeade…and, of course, he _was_ actually in the Knights with us," Walden laughed. "O' course, I'm nae sure if he's still loyal, meself, but Lucius doesna agree."

"The….the who? What Knights?" I recalled, of course, that name being mentioned before, but neither Erik nor I had bothered to figure out what it meant.

"The Knights of Walpurgis," Walden said. "Ye know…otherwise known as the Death Eaters? Ye didna think that was the _real_ name, did ye? We call ourselves that around the Mudbloods and the Muggle-lovers, ta frighten them!"

Oh…oh Gods, I actually _had_ thought that was the real name of the group, as did, apparently, many historians. "You mean, like….like Walpurgisnacht? Like Beltane?" I sounded like a babbling idiot, as if I'd never studied any occult anything in my life. A group called the Death Eaters was annoying enough, but an organization called Knights of anything, who went around wearing pointy hoods and lighting fires, was rather unacceptable to me—being American, there was only one thing that I associated with that. Inanna, who was from the South, was going to be rather unpleasantly surprised when she heard about this.

"Aye," Walden said, looking at me a bit strangely.

"So, that's where the Revels came from," I said.

"O'course, lass. He really didna tell ya _anythin'_, did he?"

"He told me enough," I said, a bit defensively. I bit my lip, and then thought of something. "At those Revel things, do you wear your—you know, your…" What did they call them, anyway?

"Our robes and masks, you mean? Around the Muggles, we do. If one escapes, we don't want to risk the chance of any of us being identified. Of course, I normally take care of that sort of thing before it becomes a problem." So Severus had lied about that, as well. The picture he had shown me could have happened more recently than the early 80s. I had wondered how he was so easily able to locate his Death Eater garb on the night of the Quidditch World Cup, considering that he had supposedly not donned it since then. It was easier to think about that than about what Macnair's last statement obviously meant.

"Rowan. I have not lied to ye about anything, ye know. I don't see the point. I wonder why Snape did?" He looked at me, and then he released me and sat up and glanced at his empty whisky glass was empty, which he refilled with a wave of his wand.

Severus hadn't lied, exactly—he had just omitted many important details, embellished others, and glamoured the rest. He had edited his story to suit his purposes. And his story had worked on me. "I don't know," I said.

"Well, I think I have some idea," he said, ticking off the following points on his broad fingers. "Ye're a Pureblood witch, and ye weren't from England, thus ye didn't know anythin' about his past…there are some who would be bothered. Ye even look like his lost love. Think about it. He's a halfblood and he wanted to raise his status. What does every Pureblood family require?"

I Summoned my mead and began drinking it out of the bottle. "I really don't know." _I hope he doesn't mean pointy hoods and fires,_ I thought.

"Oh, don't have me on. I know ye're smarter than that. Heirs, of course. One will do—just look at Lucius, that's all he's bothered with so far," he added, taking another drink. It had not appeared to affect him. "I may have to get some more whisky," he said.

The realization that Macnair might be right hit me like a freight train. "You—you mean that—" That I was a means to end? I didn't want to voice that, but it was surely what he meant.

"Why in Salazar's name would you think ye're any different from the rest of the Death Eater wives, Rowan? Why do you think Lucius had me find ye? Oh, aye, he had his other reasons, I imagine…he always does, but the Dark Lord is coming back and it's time that we gather our ranks once again, as we did in the old days," he said, finishing the glass and setting it down with a grunt of satisfaction.

"But—but—Severus told me that….." What _had_ Severus told me, exactly? He had implied that he performed a love spell. I had performed one the same evening, and I had always assumed that they crossed paths, thus bringing both of us our wish. What if his spell had really been a Summoning for a suitable wife, one to perhaps drop a little chlorine into his inbred gene pool…or, worse, what if it had actually been an attempt at social climbing? He had repeatedly insisted that he wasn't a Dark wizard or a loyal Death Eater, and I had recently learned that he was a member of Dumbledore's Order, but I had no direct evidence of this latter fact—only Severus' words, and right now, those seemed hollow. Dumbledore had vouched for him, but once again, I considered the uncomfortable fact that he might actually have fooled Albus.

"Och, he told ye whatever he needed to tell ye ta get ye in his bed and keep ye there! And ye married the greasy bastard," Macnair chuckled.

"He's not greasy," I said, but weakly. "It's the potions." Oh Gods. _Gather __**our**__ ranks!_ _Macnair thought I was Dark. That's why he was telling me all of this._

"Och, he's been saying that for years! Why in Merlin's name doesn't he just use extra Cleaning Charms on his hair—they're nae difficult! And didna ye ever wonder why he didna have a more prestigious position?" I knew the reason, or thought I did—something to do with Dumbledore, wasn't it? And like an executioner had room to talk about prestigious jobs. I took another drink of mead.

"Look. Leave him. Ye doona need him," Macnair said, taking another drink out of his glass, which he had refilled again. "I'm quite fond of ye, ye must know that by now," he added, almost as an aside.

"But, you're married." I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, and felt immediately idiotic. _Like, why didn't I just say, Thanks but no thanks, and put an end to this conversation forever_?

"And I work at the Ministry," he replied. "Imagine how easy it would be for me to arrange a divorce," he said.

"Oh please!" The mead had given me a little Celtic courage. "Men always say that!" What, was I quoting the advice column from _Witch Weekly_ now?

"Do they? Muggle men, I suppose ye mean. I know you spent some time living as a Muggle. It's a bit different for wizards, at least here. We take things a bit more seriously, but I imagine that Isobel would be only too glad to be rid of me, especially if I let her have the London house."

That was his wife's name, I supposed. "London house? Look, I'm, er, I'm really flattered, but—" I had no idea what to say. The mention of the London house made sense, though. The night we had met Malfoy, Macnair had taken us to what he explained later was his hunting lodge (that explained all of the heads on the walls—a detail that I was trying my best to forget). I suppose the London house was where his wife lived, for appearance's sake.

Why was I even appearing to consider any of this? For one thing, the way we met was not ideal. Using Imperius, he had raped me. He was a Dark wizard. And sorry, one Death Eater is more than enough, even if Severus was supposed to be a former one. I was especially not thrilled with this whole "Knights" business, either. I didn't think that Macnair was the proper person with which to argue those semantics, though.

Should I perhaps tell him that I couldn't be with him on philosophical grounds, as I didn't approve of executions? I hadn't given them much thought, really. From what he had told me, a lot of his job duties sounded like those of a Muggle animal control officer, and the beheadings were considered to be humane. Perhaps I could claim that I was a vegetarian or an animal rights activist? No, he had seen me eat meat. I didn't like his drinking? _Yeah, right_, I thought, taking another welcome sip of mead. I examined my feelings. I couldn't really tell any difference in my mind between these Imperius Curse interludes with Walden and my regular life. I actually had a good time with him. I enjoyed his company. I wasn't sure that any of that was a result of Imperius. Why was I even considering any of this at all? _What was the matter with me?_

One thing was for sure-my life, which had never been normal even for a witch, was getting more and more bizarre by the instant.

"I think I told ye-I live at me hunting lodge, not in London. And what do ye mean, ye're flattered, but? But what? We get on well—I don't believe we've ever had a quarrel," he began.

"Don't you think I'd be kind of stupid to pick a fight with you?" I said. What, the night we met didn't involve a struggle? And the words "swish and flick" took on new and unpleasant meanings around him. I looked nervously over at his axe, which was sitting on the coffee table. The nasty-looking implement apparently was—in addition to being completely functional-a ceremonial symbol of his position, and he was required to wear it to the Ministry. None of the Muggles ever seemed to notice it, or our robes; I supposed he performed a glamour before we came to the hotel. I had muttered something about a costume party to a small child who had gawked at us in the elevator one night.

He laughed. "I'd like to see ye make _that_ point to Isobel. At any rate, you're attractive and you have spirit. You must be Celtic, from the way you look. And you enjoy sex," he added.

I blushed. "My ancestors are Irish," I said.

"And mine are Scots, as if ye hadna guessed. My family lives there. My parents are sympathetic to the cause, and they approve of me. The persecutions of wizards and witches went on longer in Scotland than anywhere else in the British Isles." He looked rather angry at this last part, which was understandable.

"I know that. I was the History of Magic teacher at the Institute," I said, although at this point I felt like the world's most inept one, as I'd somehow mired myself in a rather unpleasant long-term practicum. To be fair, though, my specialty had been the 17th and 18th centuries.

"In Salem, eh? So how can you deny the rightness of our cause?"

"Two wrongs don't make a right," I said.

"Muggle logic! You need to follow yer true heritage, Rowan, and not listen to that whitewashed rubbish like the Yanks and the Muggle-lovers hand out." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

"Aren't we having an argument now?" I asked. "And what, are you trying to recruit me?"

"I've told you before that there were only two women in the Death Eaters, Lestrange's wife and the Carrow lass. Most women doona have the taste for it. Anyway, she's in Azkaban now, Lestrange's wife, that is. Doona know where Carrow is now, somewhere off with her brother, I guess." He paused for yet another drink. "My parents would like ye; they think Isobel is boring," he added, holding up his now-empty glass with a frown. "Look, could you use that device, whatever it's called, and get me some more whiskey? The Muggles do make good whiskey, better than Ogden's," he mused, looking wistfully over at the second empty bottle of Laphroaig as he gestured at the telephone, and then strode off in the direction of the bathroom. I had used the phone to place orders on our prior visits, insisting that the Muggles considered it normal behavior.

As I was stunned from these recent revelations, I could do nothing but pick up the phone, dial Room Service, and ask that another bottle of whiskey, the same brand as before, be sent to Mr. Macnair's room, 355. And could they please knock, and leave it outside?

After I sat down the phone, he exited the bathroom and sat next to me on the bed. "I'm nae trying to recruit you for our Lord, I'm trying to recruit ye for myself. Remember, I was watching ye for quite a while before we actually met that day. And I don't mind if ye continue seeing Lucius, for now. He'll get tired of ye eventually, anyway," he added, as he pulled me close and began to kiss me. "Mmmm," he mumbled, as he removed his robe with one hand and threw it on the floor. "Ye don't have to give me an answer about any of that now. But ye do have to suck me, though, ye're so good at that..." _How on earth could he possibly be ready for sex after all those drinks_? I mused. But he clearly was, and twice more after that. He had taken me back to the Hogsmeade townhouse the next morning. There, on the doorstep, he had kissed me and told me that he loved me. That was the last time I had seen him. Of course, I hadn't exactly left a public forwarding address.

And after the Pensieve ritual was over the previous evening, our coven (and Erik) had performed a short binding ritual on Malfoy and Macnair (I had been, if truth be told, a bit tired, and had not put as much energy as I should have into it, especially the parts concerning Walden.). When we were done, I had excused myself early from the feast. I had walked out to the room where I was staying at the Institute (on a fold-out sofa) somewhat mechanically. Looking in the side compartment of my purse, I had found the bracelet that Walden had given me. When had he become "Walden" in my mind? I didn't know. I put the bracelet on, as a reminder that if and when I ever saw Severus again, I'd need to have a serious talk with him. Or so I tried to convince myself.

"Rowan? Excuse me, Rowan?" said Silverman, the curse breaker, who had returned to the room in the midst of my reflection without me noticing him. "You were a million miles away for a minute there."

"Sorry. This whole experience has been more than a little disorienting for me," I said, snapping back to present-day reality after a quick glance at the bracelet glinting against my arm. It was on my left arm, and the third finger of said hand remained handfasting-ring free. I felt like a traitor.

"After I take the curse off, you'll be back to normal—or as normal as any of us are-in a few weeks. There's a potion that you can take that helps speed the process up." I grimaced at these words and hoped he didn't notice. If he did, he was polite enough not to mention it and continued on. "You know, there's a wizard in England who's an expert on this curse—he works for Gringotts. Bill Weasley. Real cool guy. We've brought him over here for seminars and stuff. I could owl him if you want. See if he's got any ideas."

_Another Weasley_, I thought, and that thought sounded so much like something that Severus would say, that I felt immediately depressed.

"Sure," I said, sounding not at all enthused at the idea.

"So, then, if you're ready, could you stand up? I prefer to have subjects alert when I do this. I know it's early," he added. It was 1:30 in the afternoon. Silverman was my kind of guy.

The actual curse-removal process took about two minutes, and involved a wand wave and the intonation of the Latin spells "Restituo Exemplar Principatus Rowan Hawthorne! Finite Incantatem Imperio Arcanus!" I stood there, blinking, and I knew a few things, all of a sudden. First, I certainly wanted nothing more to do with Lucius Malfoy…at least as far as a romantic relationship was concerned. For all his charm, style, and grace, he was nothing but an insincere opportunist. Second, I cared deeply about Severus, despite his untruths. I did wish that he would have fought back a bit more that evening, but he was outnumbered, and he had made the only available choice to preserve our lives at the time. And he had acted with honor after the incident. I had treated him quite badly, and he had not tried to push himself on me.

But—oh Gods, no. I looked down at the bracelet. I genuinely liked Walden. How in the Goddess' name could that have happened? And then there was the "dog tag."…I had to get that fixed.

"You look like you have some questions," prompted Silverman. "Remember, this is all confidential." It had damn well better be, I thought, or I was looking at an extended stay in Sing Sing Annex, just for associating with all of those Dark wizards. The NYAF, despite their professed liberal views on Muggle-borns and such, meant business. I was glad that I wasn't in their jurisdiction.

"Uh, yeah, uh…anyway, so…." Using lots of euphemisms, I pointed in the general direction of the dog tag and explained what I wanted done. Silverman raised his eyebrows a bit, but gamely pointed his wand at me and muttered some words, followed by Severus' name. He stepped out of the room briefly, I checked the tag, and all was copacetic. When he came back, I asked him about Walden, again using lots of euphemisms.

"Are you by chance referring to Walden Macnair?" said Silverman, abruptly, at the end of my vague recitation. I guess Silverman had heard a lot of euphemisms in his time.

"Yeah, I am. How did you know?" I took a drink of the gross coffee, hoping it would make me feel less stupid. It didn't help.

"The ways of wizards are mysterious, my child," he said, in a silly voice. I laughed. "Kidding! Erik just told me he was there, that night. Did Erik tell you that Macnair was here back in the 80s? He and I and some other guys got some really nasty things out of the sewers. That was a damn good time," he said, his voice drifting off. "It's a damn shame he's one of those meshuggeh Death Eaters. I had no idea, no idea at all. Look, why don't you tell him that Auror Silverman says—never mind," he stopped, at the look on my face. "I'm sorry. It's just that I know about Snape, and frankly I think you're better off without him."

"That seems to be going around these days," I said.

"The thing with Macnair may fade away on its own as you take the potion. If it doesn't—well, then it didn't happen because of the curse. And I don't claim to be a counselor, so I can't give you any advice on _that_," he said. "Just ask my wife," he sighed.

"Thanks," I responded. "You've helped me quite a lot. Do I—owe you anything, or," I began.

"No. Erik's taken care of everything," responded Silverman.

"I kind of figured. He's great," I began, and just as I did, Erik himself knocked on the door. His face appeared on a small mirror on the back. "Come in, oh Viking hero!" said Silverman. "We're all done here. Your job now is to take her out for some food, right away. Might I suggest the Second Avenue Deli?"

After the culinary wizards at the Deli had worked their particular magick upon us, it was late afternoon.

"Hey, so do you want to hit that club I mentioned? It's open during the day," said Erik, pulling me gently into an alley.

"Sure, why not?" I said. He Apparated us into another alley. We walked out onto a street in what looked like the Village. In the middle of a block, I spotted a small club that seemed to be escaping the notice of most of the Muggles passing by on the street. A sign by the door read, "Now Playing, Today and Tonight: Taliesin Jones and the Wizards of Blues."

* * *

The Second Avenue Deli is well worth a visit if you are in NYC. The waiters there, and all the patrons in the room, sang me "Happy Birthday" a few years back. And their chopped liver is excellent. Like Rowan, I am not a vegetarian. Perhaps someday.

Latin:

Extractum-remove  
Extractum incantatem-remove enchantment  
Restituo-replace, restore, repair  
Exemplar-original, model, pattern  
Principatus—pre-eminence, first place, rule, dominion


	13. Chapter 13 – Emeralds

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 13 – Emeralds are a Girl's Best Friend  
**

The inside of the bar was dark and smoky. A blues combo, as advertised, was jamming away up on stage. We paused for a moment to listen to them.

"_Well, I woke up this morning  
Had those Disapparating Blues  
I said, I woke up this morning  
Had those Disapparating Blues  
My baby gone and vanished  
Down to the buckles on her shoes  
_

_Well I smelled that smell of ozone  
And I knew that she was gone  
I never heard the popping  
But I knew she done and gone  
I'm gonna get me a Time-Turner  
So I don't have to sing this song…"  
_

Unfortunately, those words seemed to describe, all too appropriately, my hasty departure from England. And I realized something else. I had been gone for a month, and had received no owls from anyone. Yes, I knew the Relay Service was expensive, but…well, Severus had represented himself as wealthy. (Of course the two other wizards, my mind nagged, actually were). I had left very detailed instructions at the shop with Morgaine, though, as well as my whereabouts (send an owl c/o The Salem Witches' Institute in case of emergency). And yet, no winged messengers had appeared. For Morgaine not to have written made sense—flighty as she was, she was a damn good assistant, and Ruthven was competent as well.

And I supposed that I hadn't _really_ expected any owls from Severus, not after our last meeting.

We approached the bar. A black gentleman, who had an ageless look about him, served us some beers; as he did, he gave me an enigmatic smile.

"Thanks, Mr. O," said Erik. "I come here a lot," he said, to me. We sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying our beers and the music. We got another round.

"Erik," I began. "I heard some really bothersome stuff from Wal—from Macnair."

"Really," he replied. "What specifically bothered you, the Death Eater stuff OR the Death Eater stuff? And did you just start to call him by his first name? Since when are you on a first-name basis—oh, never mind," he said, taking another drink. Right. He was a cop. He didn't miss many details.

Hailing Mr. O (who, I was beginning to think, looked rather familiar), Erik got a couple of shots of something and downed them in rapid succession.

I sighed. "Look. He told me some stuff about Severus, and if it's true, well, Severus has been lying to me about pretty much everything since we met. For two years, Erik!"

"And this surprises you how? Like you think you can trust ANY of those assholes? Rowan, have you realized what a precarious position you're in?" He signaled to Mr. O. Another round of beers appeared in front of him and me. I drank mine gratefully.

"What do you mean?"

"You have SO much dirt on those jerks that I'm surprised they haven't taken you out already. They were probably just waiting until they got tired of you. And that includes Snape," he said.

I thought about what he said for a moment. "But—but they don't know I got my memories back," I said, weakly.

"Oh, like that's going to stop them. Look. I think you and I should make a little visit to 777 Police Plaza, and talk with our expert on the Magickal Witness Protection Program," he said.

"What! But—but Wal- but, I mean, Macnair, he," I let my voice drift off. What, was I thinking that Walden would provide protection for me? Was I actually _considering_ his offer? I sure wasn't going to ask Erik for advice about it.

"Stop calling him that! What did he do?" said Erik. "I knew I should have come back in that Pensieve!" he said, hitting his hand on the bar. "I knew it!"

"It—it was personal," I said, feeling the weight of the bracelet on my arm. Perhaps Walden had been attempting to bribe me, in the eventuality that I'd get the curse broken. As if a silver snake bracelet would be enough to buy me off, as if I was a teenager or something.

"WHAT—DID—HE—DO—ROWAN?" said Erik, slowly, sounding very angry.

"I told you, it was PERSONAL!" I said. Had Walden been telling the truth? Had Severus been attending Malfoy's Dark Revels, up until he met me? And what was this about him being in love with Potter's mum, whoever she was? I mean, why should I have cared about that? He had never asked me about any of my previous lovers. I could handle that, but I could definitely not deal with knowing that he might have wanted me merely for my heir-producing potential. Come to think of it, Severus _had_ mentioned the subject in our first weekend together. "Look. Can you teach me how to throw off the Imperius Curse?" I said.

"Yes. I'm surprised Snape didn't teach you," he said.

"We never got to it," I replied.

"Probably because he wanted to use it on you. I mean, you've got more than enough strength of will to do it," he continued.

Maybe he had used it. "Is it true," I began hesitantly, "is it true that the Arcanus, or Arcanum, or whatever, works best on those with whom you've got, well, a connection? Silverman mentioned it."

"Yeah," said Erik, taking a drink. "Yeah. What are you getting at? Are you saying you've got a connection with Macnair? What kind of connection?"

"I said it was personal," as I looked down at my beer. I missed Walden terribly, I thought, and blushed. What was in this beer, anyway?

"You mean, you WANT to go back over there for some more kinky Death Eater nooky? You want to go back to that fucking vampire—" He stopped, at a look from me. "OK, OK. _Your_ _husband_."

I made a face.

Eric got a very serious look on his face and I knew he was trying Legilimency. I tried to keep him out of my thoughts, but he was way too fast and the beer had affected me just a bit too much.

He growled. "No, wait, I get it now….you're going to ditch him for _Macnair_? Are you insane? Odin save us! Let me tell you, I've seen the file that got sent over from the British MLE on Snape and it's as thick as this," he held his arms up, about a foot apart, "with dirt like you wouldn't believe. I did the research when Rhiannon asked me. And let's not even start on Macnair." I now assumed that Erik had been the mysterious Auror that Rhiannon had referred to, that night at the World Cup. Yeah, he was a Boy Scout, alright.

"But, but then you must know that Dumbledore trusts Severus! He's a…." I began. That sounded weak. I wasn't sure if I trusted him at this point. I made a mental note to ask Dumbledore, if I ever saw him again, if he happened to know anything about Malfoy's Dark Revels.

"Yeah, yeah. Secret Agent Man. Big fucking deal. Have you ever heard the term, _double agent_? I'd like to AK every single one of those motherfuckers. Starting with Snape. Yippie-ki-yay," he said, with a sneer.

Mr. O approached us. Saved by the bell—and I suddenly knew who Mr. O was. Or, at least, who owned his head.* "Anudder round, my friens?"

"Rowan?" Erik had a forced smile on his face.

"Yeah," I said, although an ocean of beer wouldn't make me feel better.

"Be right back," said Erik, abruptly, as he slid off the stool. Mr. O sat the two beers in front of me and gave me a penetrating gaze.

"De only way you know, missy, de answer to your question—you check de bracelet. You see how much it worth. Den you know, you know what he t'ink of you."

"How, how do you—"

"Check de bracelet, I say. Dat man, de big one with an axe, he no good, like he boss. But he do care for you, and he do tell the truth. An' de other one, he love you, and not just for de babies. He lie, to make you like him," he answered, as he walked toward another customer.

* * *

"Erik, can we stop off at a jewelry store before we head back?" I twisted the bracelet nervously on my wrist. We had left the bar in silence. After he returned from the bathroom, Erik hadn't continued the conversation. Perhaps he had blown up the sink, or something, to make himself feel better.

"Sure," said Erik, as he propelled us smoothly into an alley. We Apparated to yet another one.

"Don't you ever worry that someone will see you Apparate?" I asked.

"This is New York City, Rowan. As if anyone would notice," he replied, laughing. We were in the Jewelry District. Erik waited outside as I ducked into a small shop that looked promising. An old Orthodox Jewish man behind the counter nodded politely and listened to my request. As he sat down his loupe, he looked at me quizzically.

"I haffn't seen workmanship like this since before ze War. Zis is amazink, young woman, simply amazink. Vhere on Earth did you get it?" Maybe I had made a mistake, coming here.

"In, um, England. It was a gift from a friend," I replied.

"And ze platinum! Finest quality. And zese emeralds! The clarity!" He was still waxing poetic about the bracelet. _Whoa…whoa…..wait a minute. Platinum? Emeralds? Huh?_ He sat the bracelet down reverently on a small velvet pad that lay on the counter.

"Young woman—vould you consider sellink? He produced a calculator from under the counter and bent over it. The loupe dangled back and forth on a small chain around his neck. "I can call my bank, and haff ze funds transferred to your account by the end of ze business day." .

Something told me that his bank probably didn't transfer to Gringotts. "No. I actually didn't want to sell it; I just wanted to know how much it's, um, worth." Perhaps I should have been a Slytherin, I thought.

"Vell, young lady, if you vere to sell it today, I would be able to give you at least five hundret for it," he said, glancing down at the figure displayed on his calculator.

"Five hundred dollars?" That sounded a bit low for platinum and emeralds, I thought. He couldn't have meant-

"No! Five hundret t'ausant", he said, chuckling. "Vell, if you insist, I could maybe make it five hundret fifty t'ausant," he said, glumly. Having been in the jewelry business myself, albeit on a much smaller scale, I knew that he meant it was worth at least twice that. And he'd probably turn right around and make a profit on it before the funds even traversed the wire.

"No—no thank you," I stammered, picking up the bracelet and returning it to my wrist. I checked several times to be sure that it was fastened as I backed out of the door, and right into Erik.

"Oh, sorry," I said. The realizations had hit me like a Caribbean hurricane—perhaps that was a result of Mr. O's intervention. Walden hadn't lied. Severus had, but only about his background, in order to make himself more attractive, and…of course, he'd left out some of his more unsavory Death Eater activities. "I did it only to spare you from the horror," he had said, when similar revelations had come to light on the night before our handfasting.

"Rowan, I'm the one who needs to say that I'm sorry. You've been going through a lot, and I've been hard on you," began Erik. "Are you ready to go back to Salem now? I can use a NYAF car to get you there," he added.

"Well, I have to go to an apothecary first to get this prescription filled," I said, holding up the parchment that Auror Silverman had written out for me.

At the apothecary, I made another purchase, and asked the woman behind the counter to send it by owl to Mr. O, the bartender at the blues club. It was a box of fine Cuban cigars. Maria, the visiting professor at the Institute, had taught me well.*

* * *

Erik and I pulled into the parking lot at the Institute in the battered NYAF car (it flew, but barely), and I got out of the car, feeling as if I should maybe kiss the ground. I was still a little tipsy. Inanna came running out the front door, a large parcel in her hand.

"Rowan, I've got to run back to the store in a minute, but I had to bring you this! You just got, like, this box of letters from the Owl Relay Service! And there's a note with it, saying that they're sorry they were late, but there was some sort of strike! I didn't know owls went on strike," she said.

"They don't," said Erik, walking toward us, tossing his car keys back and forth between his hands. "I heard about that. It was their handlers, up in Canada. They never pay those guys enough. I tell ya, International Magical Cooperation just isn't what it once was," he sighed.

I plucked the box from Inanna's hands and waved my wand over it to open the wrappings. The box, about the size of a box of Muggle chocolates, was literally packed with envelopes.

The one on the top had a Ministry of Magic return address.

I peered closer at it. "Now why in the hell would I be getting a letter from the Department for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures?" I said. "I don't have any pets…." My beer-fuzzed brain realized, too late, that I had used my out-loud voice. "Oh crap. Oh Gods." And it was very clearly addressed to Mrs. Rowan Hawthorne Snape, c/o the Salem Witches Institute, Salem, Massachusetts, USA. So much for the lack of forwarding address, I thought. I bet Walden had an efficient assistant. I hoped that all of the owls weren't from him. I started slowly moving toward the Institute door.

"That SOB is sending you owls? And from work! Cheap Scottish bastard!" growled Erik. _He wouldn't be saying __**that**__ if he had been in that jewelry store with me_, I thought. "Give me that box!"

"_No way_! They're my letters. I'm going to go inside now and read them, if you _don't_ mind!" I said, pulling another letter from the pile. Nope, this one was from Hogwarts. And it had a green seal with a snake on it on the back. And it smelled, albeit faintly, like potions ingredients. Although I now knew that he had no ancestral funds, Severus wasn't cheap; he was merely a workaholic.

"God-DAMN!" yelled Erik. Then he put on a B-movie vampire voice. "Dear Rowan, how I long to reach for you from beyond the grave and drink ALL of your blood! Vlah!" And then he started hissing. Inanna just stood there. To her credit, she was quiet.

"Shut UP, Erik!" I said, pulling yet a third letter from the box. This one was on very expensive-looking light grey parchment. It, too, had a snake seal on the back. My name and address were written in elegant-looking script. There was no return address, but I didn't need one. I sighed.

"What's _that_, your invitation to the Death Eaters Spring Cotillion?" said Erik. "Your dance card's going to be a little full!"

"THAT—IS—ENOUGH! Enough, I tell you! I thought you said you were going to give me a break! Don't follow me inside, or there'll be hell to pay!" I said, shoving the box under my arm, storming into the Institute and slamming the door behind me. I warded the door with a spell that would take a while to break, even for Erik. It was the one Walden used on the hotel room door every Saturday night. I heard Erik's voice through the door as I strode down the hall. "Say hello to the Count for me! I'm saving him a stake!"

* * *

*There are references in this chapter to elements of the Afro-Cuban religion of Santeria. Mr. O = the Orisha (god/spirit) Obatala. I have many friends who practice this religion and I have a great deal of respect for it. In "Dark Redemption," it is mentioned that there is a visiting teacher of Afro-Cuban Magickal Traditions, named Maria, at the Institute.


	14. Chapter 14 – Please, Mr Post-Owl

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

This is another long chapter, so enjoy. Remember that "Review" button down in the lower corner of your screen. Please make sure the tray tables are in their fully upright and locked positions. Thank you for shopping Cid62 Mart, and be sure to come again!

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 14 – Please, Mr. Post-Owl  
**

Once I was safely ensconced on the convertible sofa that took up most of the space in Rhiannon's office (where I had been staying during my time in Massachusetts), I sat the box on the table and began sorting out the letters. There were four from the Ministry (or, rather, from Walden's office there). He had apparently gone home at some point, because there were also three with a return address of "Macnair Lodge." Then there were four—no, five ones on grey parchment with no return address that I assumed were from Malfoy. The latter one was quite large and appeared to contain something more than just a letter. Hmmm. There was one with the return address of the Hogsmeade store—it looked like it was in Ruthven's handwriting. And then there was the one from Severus, at Hogwarts.

I stopped for a moment to take a bathroom break, change into some of my wizarding robes in order to get more comfortable (Erik and I had worn Muggle clothes to New York), and brew some coffee. Glancing out the kitchen window, I noted that the NYAF car had departed, presumably with Erik at the wheel. Inanna had, as she'd mentioned, obviously gone back to the store. Nobody else was around. The Institute was closed this week and the next for winter break. After last night's ritual, everyone had departed for his or her respective holiday destinations. Michele and Bryan had taken a Portkey back to England. I had considered accompanying them when I had first heard about it, but the appointment with the curse breaker had taken precedence. Rhiannon had taken off for California this morning. Inanna was going to stay above the store for the duration of the break and perform her Astral Duty from there. I had told her before I left this morning that I wasn't sure what I was going to do yet, and would probably see her at the store later.

Turning my attention back to the letters, I noted that the Relay Service (Goddess bless them) stamped each parchment envelope with the day of the week, time, and date that they received them. Using this handy information, and Rhiannon's Astrological Calendar for last year (which was still open on her desk), I sorted the letters. The first one, from the store, was dated on the Sunday after I had left for Massachusetts, last month.

"_Dear Mrs. Hawthorne, A strange thing happened at the store last nigh_t," I read. The day I had left had been a Friday, so I had an idea what that event might be. "I decided to stay late to do some Potions experiments." This one had to be from Ruthven, then. Knowing what I knew now, I wondered if perhaps he was Severus' illegitimate son. That was entirely too much to think about at the moment, so I bravely forged on. "_At 6:30, a large wizard in a long black cloak with a hood came in the door. He had short black hair and a mustache. He asked where you were. I didn't think it was a good idea to tell him. He tried to cast the Imperius Curse on me, but due to my ancestry, I am not susceptible to it._" What did that mean—was it a vampire thing, perhaps? "_He then asked me again, and threatened me with his wand. He also had a big axe, and he scared me. He put a Full-Body Bind on me and said I'd regret it if I didn't tell him where you were_." _Always the charmer, aren't you, Walden? _I thought. "_I couldn't fight him. I gave him the address and told him you'd be back in a month or so, like you said. I'm very sorry. I hope this doesn't mean you're in any trouble. Also, the Professor came in yesterday as well, and Morgaine told him where you were, but I figured that was all right. Happy Yule, from your employee, Ruthven._"

I sighed and looked at the next consecutive letter, dated the next day, with a return address of the Macnair Lodge. It began with "Fiat Obscurus," presumably to put me under the Imperius variant again, as otherwise I probably wouldn't have known who the letter was from. It went on to say that he missed me, and he understood why I had left without notice, of course. He would write back when he had more time, as he had to go and visit his family for the holidays. He had been hoping that I could have joined him on that visit. Also, he had been considering visiting America again. And he signed it "Yours, Walden." I sighed again.

The next letter was dated the following Wednesday, and was from Malfoy. It, too, began with "Fiat Obscurus!" I chuckled at that, as I was reminded of Auror Silverman and his story of the Imperius variant billboard. The letter, however, was not amusing. "_Dear Moonchild, Imagine my surprise when I arrived at your home yesterday evening to find that you were not there, but Walden was. After a prolonged and rather unpleasant conversation, we came to a mutual agreement. At this point, I now release you from the secrecy aspect of our arrangement and of the arrangement between you and Walden, in order that you might remember both of us._"

_Great_, I thought. _Awfully nice of him to do so. What a shame I've already done it myself!_

"_I must say that I would not have given you up as quickly as he seems to think I would have. I have, in fact, become quite attached to you. In the letter following this one, you will find enclosed my Yule present to you_." I looked at the larger package and noted it was indeed dated the same day. And another present, how marvelous—I suppose Walden had been wrong about that. I decided to open the envelope, which contained a small box. Inside was a necklace, and it did not involve a snake. It was a silver chain with a pendant—a green stone, set in a bail. I wasn't even going to bother guessing what the materials were. I sat it back in the box. "_I do hope that you like it, and will wear it while you are in Massachusetts, and think of me. At any rate, I have no objections to you and Walden making your relationship more permanent. I would like to facilitate such by suggesting that all of us meet at my Connecticut estate in a month, when you are done with your Institute business. If you would do me the honour of replying as soon as possible, I will then write back with a date, a time, and the location of my estate. Yours most affectionately, Lucius._"

_Well, how completely Slytherin of him_, I thought. _He made the entire thing sound as if it was his idea! What, was he planning to perform a marriage ceremony for us, too?_

The next two letters were from the Macnair Lodge. Neither began with "Fiat Obscurus," thus confirming Malfoy's story. One essentially reiterated what Malfoy had said in his letter. The second, clearly written after Walden had drunk several whiskies, detailed exactly what he was going to do to me when next he saw me, and for how long, in extremely graphic detail. And it was signed "_Love, Walden_." Wow. _He wasn't a bad writer either_, I thought. I fanned myself with the letter after I was done reading it, and reached in my pocket for the bottle of Imperius Arcanum-resisting potion I had gotten at the Apothecary. I took one swallow, as directed, and then I read the letter again. My reaction to it was even more profound, involving a long sigh. Great.

Then, dated three days later there was a short note from Malfoy, wondering if I had received his first two letters. Then one of Walden's letters on Ministry letterhead was next, asking me essentially the same thing. Two weeks had passed, according to the calendar. The next week's letters were from Walden first, then Malfoy, then Walden again. The tone of each became progressively sterner, wondering why I hadn't replied. The last letter from Malfoy was rather terse, saying that he had heard of the Relay Service strike and that he was taking steps to ensure that I would be receiving my mail. He also left the address and directions to his Connecticut estate in that letter. The last letter from Walden said that he, through his Ministry connections, was taking his own steps on the Relay Service problem. I grimaced at this, hoping that whatever steps he took wouldn't involve a bunch of executed owls. These last letters were both dated five days ago.

I put the stack of letters and the necklace back into the box, and then all that was left on the table was the letter from Severus, dated three days ago.

I stared at it and took a long sip of coffee. I had just started to open the letter when I heard noises from down the hall. It sounded as if the door was being opened. Someone had managed to breach the wards, then. "Erik! Erik, is that you?" I yelled. Perhaps he had come back to apologize. I stood up. Well, I was certainly willing to speak with him if he could keep things civil. Or maybe it was Inanna? Either way, they both had bad timing. I really wanted to read Severus' letter. I sighed and walked toward the door. "Hello? Who's there?" I said. Footsteps were coming down the hall, and I hadn't heard a voice yet. OK, now I was a bit worried, and I held up my wand. Who in the hell had gotten past those wards? I thought. Why, they were some of the strongest—

"Fiat Obscurus!" came a voice, in a very strong Scots accent.

"That won't be necessary," I said. That explained the breaking of the wards. I had learned them from him, after all.

"What do ye mean?" said Walden, stepping into Rhiannon's office and looking around with a disdainful air. "Good heavens, I can see why ye moved," he said. I attempted to look at the room through his eyes. Environmental and social activism posters covered the walls. The convertible sofa, on which I had been sleeping for a month (and my back protested about it nightly) was a product of the Muggle 1970s. There was a handmade rag rug on the floor. No part of the shabby desk was truly visible under the prodigious pile of parchment that covered Rhiannon's desk (although to her credit, she knew exactly where everything was). And the whole place smelled like stale patchouli. For a man who was used to seeing either stuffed animal heads or ancestral portraits (or both!) gracing solid stone walls, the Institute's appearance must have come as a shock.

"This wasn't my house, Walden." I said. I wasn't fond of Rhiannon's lack of housekeeping, either, but as a guest, I didn't think it was polite to complain. The Institute didn't have house-elves; very few Americans did. The cleaning women who came weekly, and who were under the impression that they were working for "The Salem Women's Institute," were not permitted to touch Rhiannon's office, lest one of her precious papers vanish.

"Ah," he said. "Now, what's this about the curse not being necessary? Did ye get the letters, or did ye throw it off by yerself, then?" I looked at him. He was wearing traditional Scottish winter dress, kilt, hat with cockade, and all. I was impressed at his obvious foresight. Odd as Salem tended to be, it was still, on the whole, a Muggle town. However, dressed as he was, the most attention he might get would be if a hapless tourist stopped him and asked him directions to the bagpipe concert.

"I threw it off," I said. No point in going into details at the moment; there would be time to discuss things later. He backed me gently toward the sofa. I knew what was coming and I didn't try to stop him.

He chuckled. "I figured ye would eventually even without the letters. Lucius underestimated ye. Ye've got a very strong will," he said, coming closer to me and tossing his heavy outer cloak to the floor. "I find it to be one of your most attractive characteristics, actually," he continued, as he sat down heavily and pulled me down next to him. "It feels so damn good when I take ye—it's such a sweet victory when I have to fight for it a bit," he growled. "I've missed ye," he added, right before he kissed me and slid his hand under my robes. "Those were me wards on the door, aye?"

"They were," I said, arching into his touch.

"I taught ye well; they were damn hard to break! And this place is the devil to find," He grabbed my hand and guided it under his kilt. The stories I had heard were all true.

"The Institute is deliberately hard to find," I said. And so was he. "My goodness, I think you win first prize," I said, giggling a bit.

"What?"

"I'll tell you later," I said, although I wasn't exactly sure how I'd explain a bawdy Muggle song about Scottish schweens from my long-ago Renaissance Faire days. I sure as heck wasn't going to sing it to him. "Don't you get cold under that kilt?"

"I'm hardly cold now, as I'm sure ye noticed. I canna wait to have ye any more, either….get on top of me," he said, grabbing me about the waist. "Yes, just like that, right there—och, ye're so sweet, so wet and hot," he groaned, as he impaled me. He moved his hands down to grab my wrists. "Ye're wearing me bracelet," he gasped, as he began to thrust his hips up to meet my movements.

"Yes," I moaned. "Oh Gods, Walden, harder, it's so good—" He felt incredible. He was like a force of nature, like the tropical storm I alluded to earlier. My mind went blank and I succumbed to the pleasure. I writhed on his lap in a primal dance.

"Mmmm," he growled, and then he shuddered and moaned incoherently. I convulsed around him. We remained locked together for a while, recovering. He eventually kissed me, murmuring, "I love ye, lass…do ye love me?" I didn't know what to do. Did I love him? Oh Goddess. I looked at him and said, at last. "Yes." Damn. If this was a curse, then cursed I clearly was. I loved him, and I no longer loved Severus. I wasn't going to say that last part aloud, though.

He smiled, then he lifted me up, seemingly effortlessly, and sat me down on the couch next to him. He then muttered and flicked a wand over both of us, returning both our clothing and us to a clean and unwrinkled state. Then he stood up and began pacing—as much as he could, given the lack of floor space and the fact that he was rather large.

"Rowan, this room is every bit as horrible as the Claw and Stang…it might be a bit less dusty. Are there no better accommodations in this blasted Colonial town? And where can a wizard find a decent meal here?" He picked up my coffee cup and drained the remainder of it. "Horrid! I've never understood why ye Yanks drink this shite!" His words were harsh, but he was chuckling during this recitation. He never took himself entirely seriously—which made him, I thought traitorously, a welcome change from Severus.

"Well, geez, I've been staying here because it's free, Walden. This is the—well, the Headmistresses' office at the Institute," I began. He snorted. "There _are_ better accommodations, of course. And there's a—well, you would call it a pub, I guess, a bar and grill, not far from here. No Muggles go there. It's called the Cloudy Crystal," I said. "You haven't eaten since you got here? When did you get here, anyway?" The man could eat more than any three people I knew.

"About three hours ago. I took the Ministry Portkey to Boston, and then some dreadful sort of transport here. And I did eat at some Muggle place, and it was wretched, even though it had a Scots name," he added.

Oh Gods, he couldn't have. "You came here on the bus from Boston?" It was called the Salem Flyer, and it was roughly equivalent to the Knight Bus. Very roughly. It did not come anywhere near the Institute, either. Typical Massachusetts efficiency. And I was fairly sure of the identity of the Scottish-named restaurant. I giggled, thinking of him ordering a "Big Mac"—or probably three of them, knowing him. "You have Muggle money?" I managed to sputter.

"Yes, of course. I've been to America before, ye know. I was in New York City, a few years back. The Auror Force hired me on to help with a creature problem they had down in the sewers. That was a hell of a lot of fun," he said.

_In for a Knut, in for a Galleon_, I thought. "Right, so I heard. Auror Silverman says to tell you hello," I said.

"My, ye have been a busy lass, haven't ye? Aye, I shall say it again-Lucius definitely underestimated ye. Silverman's the best curse breaker I've seen, outside of the Ministry, o'course," he added. "And damn, we need to go and get that food now. Unless you have some here," he finished, looking around disdainfully.

I thought of the microwave vegetarian meals in the tiny (but clean) kitchen down the hall. For some reason, I thought of the tag, which now resided in a small box in my suitcase. After Silverman had done his magic, I had checked the tag and it had come away in my hand—but it did have Severus' name on it. "Just let me put on my cloak and we can go," I said. I opened my magically-expanding suitcase and rummaged about for my cloak. The only one I found was green with a serpent-shaped clasp. I sighed and put it on. I wasn't escaping this stuff even in Massachusetts.

"Do you want to use one of the Institute's brooms…" I began, as he picked his cloak up from the floor and shook the dust off it with a grimace.

"No. We will Apparate, of course. What—don't ye know how?"

"I never learned. It—well, it kind of always weirded me out…"I let my voice drift off. The Apparition teacher at the Institute, when I had attended, was rather flaky and I hadn't trusted her methods. Frankly, the whole concept of squeezing through a wormhole rather bothered me. Severus had repeatedly asked me to learn, and I had refused.

"Look, if Crabbe and Goyle can do it, ye can!" he said.

"Those two…er, bruiser guys?" The names sounded vaguely familiar.

"They're large and strong, but they're extremely stupid, and they got into the Death Eaters because of the former," he said. I decided to keep my opinions to myself on the latter part of his sentence.

"They were there, you know—" I pictured a large, dim wizard who had problems hooking Severus to a wall, from my Pensieve memories. (At Erik's suggestion, yesterday we had taken my Pensieve to NYAF headquarters. It was currently being stored for safekeeping in one of the Force's high-security vaults.)

"At me hunting lodge? Aye, they were there that night. Ye should be glad Lucius didn't invite them in as well…but they probably wouldna even have known what ta do! And as I said, if they can Apparate, ye can. Hold me hand and picture this pub as clearly as possible in yer mind. When ye have it clearly, nod, and I'll Apparate us."

I nodded and we appeared in the street in front of the Cloudy Crystal. The establishment was located in downtown Salem, on a side street not far from the famed House of the Seven Gables, and also not that far from my former store, the Flying Witch. I had spent many happy hours there. Much like the Leaky Cauldron in London, Muggles were not able to see the place…it looked like a row of abandoned buildings to them.

Walden opened the door for me and in we walked. It was very crowded and I suddenly realized that it was Saturday night. I had become disoriented without my regular weekly routine to ground me. Music played, smoke billowed, and happy voices chattered. The kitchen stayed open until all hours. "Verra nice. This is rather like the Leaky Cauldron," Walden remarked.

"Umm-hmm, thought you'd like it," I murmured, as I glanced around for an empty table. None seemed to be in evidence. Then, I heard someone calling my name, and a hand waved from across the room. I looked closer. Oh Gods. I couldn't remember the wizard's name, but he was one of those Massachusetts weenies that I had briefly dated, back in the pre-Severus days. Moon-something, or maybe it was Star-something. Oh no, he was coming closer. I could feel Walden bristling behind me.

"Rowan! Rowan Hawthorne! How wonderful to see you again!" burbled the wizard. He was dressed in a long blue caftan with a moon and star pattern on it. His thinning hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He wore tiny, round wire-framed glasses. He resembled an aging Muggle hippie, not least of all due to the giant silver peace sign that hung around his neck (along with about fifteen other necklaces of varying design), although he was only a year older than I, as I recalled. And he was holding his arms out for a hug. Please, Goddess, no, I thought. I held my hand out to shake, stopping him in his tracks. He shook it, looking a bit perturbed. I suddenly remembered his name.

"Moonwillow, how are you?" I said. I heard a not-very-quiet snort from Walden, behind me.

"Excellent, as always! Why don't you and your…er, friend come and sit with me? I heard you moved to Scotland," he said, glancing at Walden with both curiosity and obvious alarm. I started to reply but Walden stepped around me.

"She did. I'm her intended, Walden Macnair," he growled, and he didn't hold out his hand for a shake, either.

This was already getting way out of hand, I thought, searching around in vain for an empty table.

"Well, well, how—how, uh, wonderful," said Moonwillow, in a quivery voice. "You're obviously from Scotland," he remarked. I recalled now the particulars of this wizard. He had driven me nuts, and not just for his annoying statements of the obvious. Michele had fixed me up with him. She was sure we'd be perfect for each other and had gotten annoyed when I said I'd dumped him after a month. I had spent the night with him once, mainly out of curiosity, only to discover that I had no physical attraction to him whatsoever. Plus, he was whiny, patronizing, and extremely opinionated, and he was—_oh Goddess, no, he was_—

"And what do you do, Mr. Macnair?" Moonwillow was asking. I could see the approaching lights of the conversational train wreck at the end of the tunnel. The whistle was blowing, and Casey Jones wasn't watching his speed. You see, Moonwillow was an animal rights activist, and a vegan, and a very strident one. He had been so annoying that I had refused to eat while with him for fear of an unappetizing lecture with my meal.

"Well, Mr., er, Willow," sneered Walden, in a very exaggerated tone—and Moonwillow didn't correct him, "I am an executioner," and he paused after that. Moonwillow's mouth gaped. I recalled that he also spent his spare time protesting against the death penalty (which was a rather pointless pursuit in Massachusetts). Walden forged on. "I work for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures at the Ministry of Magic in London." I dropped my head into my hands and groaned. Nobody noticed. "And I am very much in need of dinner," he continued, with a smirk that implied that dinner would most certainly involve a large portion of some kind of dead animal flesh. "So you will excuse us now," and with that, Walden pulled out a chair from a table that had miraculously cleared right next to me. I watched as Moonwillow scuttled away, no doubt to alert all his friends so they could come over and picket us, or something.

"I hope that Mudblood git isn't an example of the rest of the wizarding community here," began Walden, as he removed my cloak from my shoulders, draped it over a nearby chair, did the same with his cloak and hat, and assisted me into my chair. Only after all this did he take his own seat. (As I recalled, Moonwillow practically pushed me out of the way when we sat at tables together, perhaps in an attempt to prove that he wasn't patriarchal.)

"He's not," I interjected, in an attempt to defuse the situation, because I really hated that horrible word, Mudblood. Unfortunately, though, Moonwillow was indeed Muggle-born, and quite proud of it, too. When the waitress, Cerridwen, came over, I ordered a large draft beer and a lobster roll. The Crystal prided itself on serving Massachusetts specialties. And it was not a vegetarian restaurant, although there were more than a few meatless entrees available. Walden ordered a bottle of whiskey and two steaks, very rare. I thought of suggesting snail darter or perhaps baby seal in honor of Moonwillow, but neither were on the menu. "You really should try the lobster," I said. "Very well, I'll have two of them as well," he added.

"Now what's this 'intended' business?" I said, picking up my napkin and placing it on my lap. Cerridwen returned with the drinks. After she had departed, Walden poured himself a glass of whiskey and said, "Well, I partially said it in order to make that repulsive git leave, and partially because I'd like it to be true."

"Oh. I was afraid it was a forgotten memory-part of the curse that hadn't gotten broken, or something."

Walden laughed. "I can see how ye'd think that, but I havena gotten round to asking ye; if ye dinna mind, though, I'd prefer to do it someplace more suitable," he said, making the final word into a potent insult. "Although I would like ye to know that my divorce has finalized," he said, reaching into his cloak and withdrawing a piece of parchment. I examined it. It was on Ministry letterhead, and it did indeed seem to state that fact. There was a large gold seal at the bottom. If it was faked, it was a very good fake.

"I also note that ye're nae wearing any sort of ring. Nor did I see a tag hanging off ye, or tha' damn necklace," he continued, pouring himself another drink. Just then, I glanced over his shoulder and saw Moonwillow, standing with a group of other witches and wizards, gesturing wildly in our direction. I hoped they weren't going to get pitchforks and torches and picket our table. On the other hand, this was Salem and we did have a history of witch hunts.

"How do you know about the necklace?" I asked. He was very observant.

"Snape wore his to the Revels. He was always going on about how he was in search of the perfect woman to wear the other one, or some such rot. Nae sure where he got the thing, maybe it was from his mum's side of the family," he said. The food arrived and we stopped talking for a moment while Cerridwen sat down the plates.

_Another illusion bites the dust_, I thought, as she did so. I was obviously not the perfect candidate for Severus' affections. He had certainly never said any such thing when he had given me the necklace on the first weekend we had been together. I suppose he'd bought it for the mysterious Mrs. Potter to wear. "Well, I took the necklace and my handfasting ring off before I left Hogsmeade and gave them back to Severus." I said. I thought sadly of Severus' letter, sitting in the box at the Institute. Goddess only knew what it said. Should I excuse myself to go and read it?

"Good. I'm going to take ye to a proper room and give ye my _wand_," he said, winking at me, "…and then I shall offer ye my ring. And I might add that I'll give ye no reason to ever remove it," Walden said, as he sliced into his steak with obvious gusto.

"Which one?" I said, taking a bite of lobster roll. "Your…er, wand, or the ring?"

"Why, both, me dear lass," he said, laughing. "Ye're the best I've ever had." He took a few bites of steak and sighed with pleasure. Then he frowned. "Salazar's ghost! Here comes that git again." I looked up. Three wizards, one of them Moonwillow, were approaching our table. Walden sat down his knife and fork and stood up. He was far taller than all of them.

"Walden, I think this is my problem," I said, and stood up as well. I walked over and intercepted them before they reached the table.

"Moonwillow, _what_ is this all about?" I said, in my best Priestess-in-Charge voice. As I recalled, he paid a lot of lip service to women's equality.

"Um, well, Rowan, it's not about you, it's about your—"

"Look. He's _not_ from this country, and he's _not_ interested in a damn thing you have to say to him, believe me." _And you dorks don't even know the half of it_, I thought. _Can you all say "Avada Kedavra"? And kiddies, please don't try that one at home_.

"We were just going to give him some information," one of them whined, weakly.

"You have _no_ idea how stupid that would be," I sighed. "Why don't you guys just go plan the next revolution, or start a commune, or something. This isn't a fight you want to start." I didn't agree with either side, I thought, grimly. I was a weirdo even amongst the weird.

"We don't want a _fight_," whined the third wizard. "We just feel it's necessary to inform your friend about his options and choices," he finished, waving a pamphlet with a picture of a bunny on it at me.

"Look. First of all, the _creatures_ he executes aren't peaceful little bunnies, they're dragons and manticores and hippogriffs who have injured witches and wizards!" I said. I didn't like his job much either, but these guys were seriously out of line. I had to make them shut up somehow. "And secondly, he's not only my friend, he's my fiancé, and we came here to have _dinner_, not a freaking whiny boring lecture, so why don't you all just cram it and get the hell out of here?!"

The three wizards, shocked into silence, were just about to turn and leave when we all heard a noise that sounded like hundreds of coins dropping on the floor. I looked around for its source.

"Fiancé! What in all of the Goddess' names is going on!?" said Inanna, who had just dropped the envelope with the night's receipts from the Flying Witch onto the floor. She clearly came in here to total up receipts on Saturday night, just as I had used to.

I motioned to Cerridwen, who was approaching the table with two lobsters on a tray. "Can we get the rest of our dinner to go?"


	15. Chapter 15 – Dinner & a Disapparation,

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 15 – Dinner, a Disapparation, and Showdown at the Institute Corral  
**

"There's no need for that, lass," said Walden, who was in the process of waving his wand and gathering up all of Inanna's spilled change. Moonwillow and his two friends were slinking away, apparently not waiting around for further surprising developments. I saw one of them try and pick up a stray coin, and drop it, as if he had been shocked. The witches and wizards who had been watching the confrontation turned back to their own business.

"Sit down and join us, why don't ye?" Walden said, to Inanna. Her mouth was open in amazement even as she plucked the mass of coins out from the air where they floated in front of her and returned them to the deposit envelope. (_No talent for retail, huh? I beg to differ_, I thought. It looked as if that envelope was packed with both Wizard and Muggle money). He shook her hand and introduced himself, conjured an extra chair, helped her remove her leather jacket, and then assisted her into the chair. Had he muttered a surreptitious Imperius? Cerridwen placed the two lobsters on the table and asked Inanna if she'd like a drink. She ordered something, I didn't hear what, and Walden requested another bottle of Scotch. I drained one of my beers and asked for another.

"How come you didn't roll up the coins before you left the store?" I said.

"Weeeeeelllllll—I couldn't deal with any more of those flippin' tourist jerks, and I saw a whole crowd of them heading toward the store, so I just emptied the register drawer into the envelope, locked up, and bolted out the back. I've probably been strewing change all over the sidewalks. Guess I forgot to zip it up all the way," said Inanna, accepting her mixed drink from Cerridwen. She looked nervous and she was babbling.

"I can't say I never did that," I replied, taking a long sip of beer.

"Wow, is that Laphroaig?" said Inanna, looking at the bottle that Cerridwen sat on the table next to Walden. "I didn't know they sold that here!"

"Aye, and ye may have some if ye like," he said, with a smile.

"Yeah, after I'm done with this," she said, taking a sip of her drink. "That goes down good, I must say. So, I remember you from the Quidditch World Cup," she said, looking directly at Walden. She must have regained her composure, I thought. Inanna had always been forthright.

"And I remember ye, as well," he said. His eyes narrowed a bit, but he still looked amused. "Och, I saw ye hanging round with me daughter's girlfriend Melissa," he added.

The Quidditch Grrrls, I remembered. Interesting. Inanna's eyes got wide. "Yeeeeeeah," she said, warily, nodding her head.

"Nothin' wrong with a bit o'friendly flirtin', but I'd be wary of Heather if I were ye. I'm pretty sure she's serious about Melissa. And she takes after me—she was a Beater on the Slytherin team, ye know." He smiled. "A damn good one, too." I saw Inanna visibly relax. _At least Walden didn't have __**that**__ sort of prejudice_, I thought, although not many in the Wizarding world did.

"So, you played Quidditch, too?" asked Inanna.

"Still do, for one of the Ministry's intramural teams," he said. He waved a wand over his steak, apparently to warm it up a bit, and began eating. "Sorry, but we were very rudely interrupted a minute ago," he said.

"Moonwillow is a fucking dork," Inanna said. "I told Michele that, like a million times. And she leaves for England and now we're stuck with him. I had to throw him out of the store today—he was complaining about some of my Native American stuff—it's made out of fur and leather. No shit, Sherlock! What a moron. I wouldn't complain if someone tossed **his** ass around in the air," she added, with a significant look at Walden. Cerridwen returned to the table with Inanna's food. I, meanwhile, was enjoying my lobster roll and beer. Walden tucked into his second steak.

"I watched both of ye after the Cup, ye know—I wasna bothering Muggles. That's when Lucius sent me to look for ye, my lass, like I told ye before," Walden said to me, after he had made a substantial dent in the food.

"What?" I had never really put two and two together, but I was beginning to understand. Malfoy had a grudge against Severus because of the Memory Charms he had performed on Draco—not to mention that Malfoy had done a significant favor for Severus, so the balance sheet was slightly out of whack. Then, Severus went and engaged Lucius in a public pissing contest in front of the rest of the (theoretically) former Death Eaters. Lucius, in return, sent Walden off to get some dirt on Severus, and he found me. And then there was the additional added attraction of the imminent return of the Dark Lord. It was all making a horrible sort of sense. Perhaps my logic skills had returned, in addition to my memories. I remembered then, and took the anti-Imperius potion out of my robe pocket and took a quick drink of it. Walden looked at me curiously, but didn't ask what I was doing. I followed up the bitter brew with a swig of beer and sat the mug down quickly. I was still hungry. Perhaps Walden would let me have part of one of his lobsters. And no, the potion was not affecting my attraction to him one whit. Damn.

"I watched ye for a while before that night at me lodge—at Diagon Alley, at the Leaky Cauldron, and at yer store and house in Hogsmeade. I think ye're amazin'," he said. "As I've said, Snape doesna deserve ye," he said, taking my hand.

"That's what Lucius told me," I said.

"Och, and only because I said it to him in the first place," he replied.

Inanna had apparently eaten enough of her food for the moment. "Hey you two! So what's this fiancé stuff? Nobody ever answered my question!" And I heard, in her voice, the unspoken question—_Didn't we just do a binding on this guy? And now he's just admitted that he stalked you, in addition to the assault?_

I looked at her. Walden spoke up. "I told that Willow git that I was Rowan's fiancé in order to scare him away," he said. "Although I _was_ tempted to toss his arse in the air," he added. "But as I'm technically over here on official Ministry business, I thought I'd better no'." He poured a shot of whiskey and passed it to Inanna.

"Ministry business?" I asked.

"Well, it seems that there's some sort of creature problem in Boston, connected with a Muggle motorway project," he began, taking another drink of whiskey and examining the still-intact lobsters. "I've had these before in Brussels, but I'm nae sure I recall how to eat them properly," he mused.

"The Big Dig!" said Inanna. "Yeah, that's a serious Massachusetts boondoggle, all right. What kind of creatures?" She downed her whiskey and looked very happy about it. Walden waved his wand and poured her another shot.

"Yer Department of Magic are working on it, but they're no' certain of what's down there, exactly. Hence, they contacted the Ministry. I got the memo just last week, after I had owled ye," he said, to me. "I was already plannin' to come here." I moved closer to him and showed him how to pull off the lobster tail. He pulled out a sizable chunk of meat, dipped it in the butter and fed it to me.

"Damn, that's good," I said. He chuckled and trailed his broad finger over my lips to catch some of the butter that remained there. "Delicious," he growled, putting his finger into his mouth and sucking on it.

"You two need to get a room, or something!" said Inanna.

"Aye, or somethin'," agreed Walden. "Can ye recommend one? I'm afraid I'm nae staying at yer Institute," he said. "That couch isnae large enough."

Inanna's jaw dropped. "Rhiannon's couch?" she said, to me.

"Uh, yeah." I took another drink of beer. Walden was tucking into his lobster quite happily, having apparently remembered how to rip it apart for maximum efficiency.

"Goddess! That must be what she meant!" she said. "She contacted me while I was on Astral Duty. Said I should check the wards at the Institute! But I was in the bathroom taking a break and there were, like, fifty customers in the store, so I couldn't." She paused and took the last bite of her burger. "There's a wizard bed and breakfast right next door," she said, to Walden.

"I put up wards when Erik hassled me about the owls. But I learned them from him—" I gestured at Walden.

"Yeah, about Erik," Inanna said.

"Aye, what about him?" said Walden. "I do know that Auror, you know. Met him when I was here before. Was he the one who took you to Silverman?" I realized that I had better not ever underestimate Walden. He didn't miss anything. He must have been watching the Institute to make sure that I was alone before he went in.

"Um. He went back to New York," said Inanna, and she kicked me under the table. _What was that about_?

"So I noticed," said Walden. "Does this bed and breakfast serve lots of food? How large are the rooms?" he asked.

"I don't know—never stayed there. Our waitress can get you a room, though—the same people own it," she said.

"They do? When did that happen?" I asked.

"Goddess, like—I dunno, last year or something," Inanna replied. She waved at Cerridwen, who came over. "Hey, Carrie, these two need a room," she said, with a wink to me. "Like, for an hour or the whole night?" she asked Walden.

"The entire night, and I'd prefer us not to be disturbed early, if possible," he replied, with a big grin.

"We can handle that, sir," she replied, writing a sum on a slip of paper and handing it to him. He then took a stack of Muggle money out of his sporran and paid her. "And could ye please direct me to the loo?" he said, standing up.

After they walked away, Inanna turned to me. Before I could speak, she held up her hand. "Nuh-uh. I'm out of the gate first, girlfriend. Number one—that guy has a serious case for you. Was that what you were watching in the Pensieve, the part you didn't want to have Erik watch?"

"Yeah, well, that was some of it," I said. "And Erik left the Pensieve on his own, by the way."

"Right. And number two, and you can smack me if you want, but—I've never really trusted Severus. Erik said Macnair told you a whole bunch of dirt about him, but he didn't give any details. And we've got to talk fast," she said, as I started to interrupt. "Third. You dropped a letter outside the Institute. It was from that other guy, Malformed,"

"Malfoy," I interjected. There had been another letter from Lucius, clearly, one I hadn't seen.

"Whatever. Right. Erik took it and read it. He kept saying, "That stupid jerk, he gave his address"! He was happy about that part, but pissed about the rest of the letter. Then he told me the stuff about Macnair, then he smacked the side of his car, then he got in and took off for New York. Girl, I don't know what's going on with you. Is it still that curse thingy? I thought you got it broken!" She looked toward the bathrooms, which were on the other side of the bar.

"I did. And it worked on Malfoy. But, well, Walden, I don't know what it is with him. Silverman didn't understand, either. I'm taking a potion, but it doesn't seem to be working! Oh Gods, I—well, I'm pretty sure that I love him!"

"But you can't-he's a Death Eater! Are you nuts?" said Inanna, in a loud whisper.

"And there's a lot more about that, but never mind right now. And like that stopped me before," I said.

"And you're married to Severus! And he's right there, too, oh shit," she said. I certainly hoped she meant Walden, but the way things were going for me, one never knew. "Hey there," she said, in a normal voice, as Walden approached the table.

"So, what sort of desserts do they have here?" he asked.

ABOUT TWO HOURS EARLIER, OUTSIDE OF HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT…

"Mr. Lucius Malfoy?"

"I'm afraid not. Who might I say is calling?"

"John Red Cloud of the Hartford Auror Force. I have a warrant to search these grounds and estate on the grounds of suspected Dark activity." Red Cloud glanced around said grounds, which were extremely spacious. He was actually surprised that there hadn't been more wards up, and that the place had been so easy to find. He made a mental note to thank Erik, as he and his boss had been trying to find the whereabouts of the Malfoy estate for years. The warrant had been issued in 1983, and was renewed every year with the consent of the Department of Magic's Central Auror Division (roughly equivalent to the Muggle FBI).

"The what? What kind of activity did you say?" The butler was staring in fascination at the Native American designs embroidered on the sleeves of Red Cloud's robe, just above his badge of rank in the Auror Force. Red Cloud took a step back and raised his wand. This man was clearly a Muggle! Malfoy was nothing if not full of surprises. "Petrificus Totalus!" Then he cast a brief glamour over his robes, the contents of his pockets, and the standard-issue police StratoSweeper that sat next to him on the porch. "Obliviate! Rennervate!"

"May I help you, sir?" asked the butler, who had noticed none of this.

"Yes, I'm here to see Mr. Lucius Malfoy, is he in?" asked Red Cloud.

"Who might I say is calling?" The butler looked down his nose at Red Cloud's ill-fitting, off-the-rack polyester suit, the unofficial uniform of police detectives everywhere. Noticing his late-80s vintage American unmarked police sedan sitting in the driveway, he gave a sniff, as if to hint that any property devaluation would be billed to Red Cloud's account post-haste.

Red Cloud extended a business card, which he also had hastily charmed. "Detective John Richardson of the Hartford Police Force. I'd like to brief Mr. Malfoy about an intruder that has been sighted in the area, if he is available to speak with me."

Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy walked through the halls of his Connecticut estate, on his way from the sun porch, where he had been enjoying a solitary, early, and leisurely dinner. A silver bell, hanging from a serpent-shaped bracket above an enchanted portrait of one of the myriad Malfoy ancestors, chimed softly, four times. Malfoy stopped and considered the noise. "An Auror? Here? What the—" He waved his wand to briefly lower the wards, and with a POP!, he Disapparated.

"Mr. Malfoy? Sir?" The voice of the butler echoed through the empty halls.

* * *

After taking our leave from Inanna at the Crystal (who had ordered a large cappuccino to fuel her while she counted out the store's profits), Walden and I went back to the Institute to pick up my things.

"I doona have ta go back to Boston until Monday," he said, as he opened the door for me. "What would ye like to do tomorrow?" he asked.

"I don't know—let's decide tomorrow morning," I said. Carpe diem. Or, I guess, as it was getting a bit late, carpe noctem.

"Very well," he answered, stepping aside so that I could proceed into Rhiannon's office. "I could easily spend the entire day in bed with ye," he finished.

"I'm very flattered," I said. He sat down on Rhiannon's couch while I looked around for stray items and Summoned them into my suitcase. "You flatter me," he said. "I'm nae letting ye go back to Snape." He looked at me with obvious affection. He really was a good-looking man, I thought—quite rugged-looking. I knew from what he had told me that he was ten years older than Severus, but he didn't look it. Of course, wizards tended to age more slowly than Muggles. And although Walden ate and drank more than anyone I had ever met, he was in very good shape, which I suppose was a result of the Quidditch...and possibly his job. He looked incredible in his traditional Scottish garb, too. I had seen quite a few witches sneaking glances at him in the Crystal.

"Walden, we really have to talk about this," I began. "I'm still handfasted to Severus." A twinge of sadness occurred, somewhere in my innards. I glanced down at the floor, rather than continuing to gape at Walden.

"I know that! Get it broken!" he said. "And marry me, damn it!"

"Is that a proposal?" I asked.

He burst into laughter. "I suppose it is. I meant for it to be a bit more formal, and in a better setting," he looked around at Rhiannon's office disparagingly. "Ah well. He reached into his cloak and withdrew a box, and then tossed his cloak to the floor. "This is another family heirloom. I never gave it to Isobel—she liked everything to be new," he scowled. "Sorry, didna mean to mention that. At any rate, my grandmother and my great-grandmother wore this ring during their engagements. My mother gave it to me when I was home for the holidays when I told her about ye. I think it will look good with your hair," he said. He then paused briefly, and extended the box, top open, to me. It contained a beautiful emerald ring, in a silver-colored setting (which was probably platinum). Celtic designs covered the band. "Would ye do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

"I—I can't," I said. "I'm still married. You know that. You can't ask me that right now, Walden. Please don't." Tears were beginning to well up in my eyes.

"Take the ring and wear it, for me. When you finish your business with Snape, which I certainly hope is soon, I'll ask ye again," he said.

"I can't do that. That wouldn't be right," I said. It was bad enough that the whole thing had gotten this far.

"Well, ye are wearing my bracelet," he said. "I suppose I can comfort meself with that." He put away the ring box.

"_Check the bracelet,"_ Mr. O had said. Was it charmed?

"Walden, er, about that bracelet?" I said. Well, that was stupid. Why had I even brought that up? I should have had Auror Silverman check it for me. "Uh, never mind," I finished.

"Did you want to know if I had charmed it?" he asked, with a smile.

"Please, please don't tell me that you can—" I began.

"Nay, never bothered with Legilimency, but it seemed like an obvious question. I didna charm the bracelet. I havena lied to ye. If there is something I haven't told ye yet, it is because I haven't gotten to it, my dear lass," he said.

"How do you know about Severus' ability?" I said, and instantly felt stupid again.

"How do you think? Our Lord valued him quite highly for that. It's a rare ability, even among wizards," he said. "Lucius always said he thought it might have something to do with vampire ancestry."

"Um, he's not _actually _descended from a vampire," I said.

"Well, well. He told ye something about his ancestry? That must be a first," he said, standing up and pulling off his heavy regimental sweater. He tossed it to the floor, where it joined his cloak. "It's getting rather warm in here. Are ye done with your packing?" I hadn't even really started. I glanced around and Summoned the few items that I had left sitting out. Although the room was messy, I had chosen not to add to the disarray. I closed up the suitcase and levitated it over toward the door.

"Why don't ye move back to Scotland, and come and live in my hunting lodge with me? Ye can keep yer store if ye like," he said. He was reclining a bit on the couch. "But for now, come sit next to me. If ye're not going to get ready to go, I'm going to have to ravish ye right here," he said. I came over and sat next to him. "Oh no, I want ye closer, like this," he said, rolling me over and pinning me to the couch. "Well, really, like this," and he moved his kilt aside, lifted up my robes, ripped off my underwear, and buried himself inside me in one very coordinated movement. I felt like I had just been put through a Quidditch goal, or something. "Aye," he groaned. "Just like this, forever," he added. "I wanted to do this when I saw ye at the Cup, actually."

"Did you," I sighed, pushing myself up against him.

"I first noticed ye there…but I'd seen ye before tha'," he said. "You feel so damned incredible…och, sorry, I canna hold back…" and he began to grunt heavily as he thrust faster. "_Tha gradh agam ort_," he sighed. "I love ye, me sweet lass," and I felt him convulse and spend.

"Oh, I love you, Walden," I groaned. "I love you so much." As I began to melt around him, I dimly heard, as if from miles away, a noise that didn't make sense. It was footsteps, although my brain was incapable of processing that.

"What's going on, Macnair, subduing another _dangerous creature_?" said Erik, angrily, from the doorway.

"DAMN IT!" yelled Walden, jumping off me and up as quickly as he could. "YE THRICE-DAMNED AUROR! WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YE'RE ON ABOUT? GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I HEX YE!" Through the haze of endorphins that was beginning to clear from my eyes, I saw Erik, in his Auror's robes, facing Walden, who had managed to cover himself up somehow, but who looked rather rumpled. Both had their wands drawn.


	16. Chapter 16 – Memento

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 16 – Memento  
**

"Don't you know how to knock, Erik?" I asked. The two wizards hadn't moved and neither appeared to be listening to me.

"Macnair, what the FUCK are you doing here?" yelled Erik.

"Auror, ye have a _fine_ grasp of the obvious! The lady invited me, I might add," Walden growled.

"Well, that must be a first for _you_, Death Eater scum!" yelled Erik.

"How dare ye! Ye have no jurisdiction over me!" shouted Walden. "I remember ye from New York. I'm here on official Ministry of Magic business, and I have diplomatic immunity. Ye, on the other hand, need to leave us in peace!"

"_You_ didn't leave this lady in peace in her apartment back on Diagon Alley, Macnair," said Erik. The two had begun circling each other like tigers, although there was not much space to do so in Rhiannon's office. I reached on the floor and grabbed Walden's cloak and sweater, and wrapped myself in the cloak. I was shivering. Come to think of it, I had been meaning to ask Walden why he had blown up my Muggle CD player, and why he had been such a brutish jerk to me when he came to my apartment, but had never gotten around to it. What worried me, of course, is that it had never seemed important to me.

Walden flicked his eyes at me briefly. "That's right, Macnair," continued Erik. "I made a little visit to Rowan's Pensieve. And you sure as hell weren't a gentleman to her then, _or_ to her husband. Can you explain that?"

"Pensieve, eh? How is that any of yer business, Auror?" said Walden.

"I made it my business. Call it doing a favor for a friend," he said. "I guess you Death Eaters don't have any friends, do you?"

"Yer accusations are groundless! Rowan's been under the Imperius Curse, as well as multiple Memory Charms, placed on her by Lucius Malfoy _and_ by her dear husband, Severus Snape. Those memories could very well be faulty. Ye should know about such things! What kind of a wizard are ye?" he said. I wondered if Walden was correct. Could Malfoy's curse—in which he had specifically said that Walden was a brute and that he wanted me to have nothing more to do with him—have altered the original Pensieve memories? I didn't know.

"Yeah, I figured you'd come up with some bullshit story like that to make yourself look good, Snake-Boy," he said. "Rowan, are you all right? Is he hurting you?" continued Erik, without taking his eyes off Walden (whose wand was still drawn).

Nice of him to ask about me, I thought. And from what he had obviously and unfortunately seen, I hadn't been protesting. "I _tried_ to tell you about this earlier, and you wouldn't listen," I sighed. "Can't you see I'm fine, Erik? Couldn't you have knocked?" I stood up. "Both of you need to put your wands down right now. There's no point in hexing each other over this. I'm here because I want to be here, with Walden, and he and I were just leaving. And no, Erik, me being here with Walden has nothing to do with the curse, because I asked Silverman about it. And _yes_, I have been taking the curse-resisting potion." I finally added, pulling Walden's cloak tighter around me.

"Hmph. You're right, Macnair, I don't have any _official_ jurisdiction over you. But are you sure you don't want to enjoy our famous New York hospitality?" said Erik, who hadn't put his wand down.

"Not if I have to deal with the likes of ye!" Walden replied. His wand, too, was still raised.

"Screw this! I came back to apologize, but I don't see the point now!" yelled Erik. "I don't even know why I wasted my time helping you, Rowan!" He shoved a brown-paper-wrapped parcel into my hand. "You left this in my car by mistake. And you know where to find me if you ever decide to wise up!" And with that, he backed down the hall, his wand still leveled at Walden. We watched as he disappeared from view, and only after we heard the slam of the door and the roar of the NYAF car engine starting, and its eventual receding into the distance, did we both sit down on the couch. Walden sat his wand down on the couch arm.

"He went in your Pensieve?" asked Walden.

"Yes," I said, tossing the parcel from Erik over to my suitcase. It was light. I supposed I must have forgotten my sweater or something in all the excitement.

"Did he see all of it, all of our time together?" he asked.

"No. He saw when you came to Diagon Alley to get me, and the first part of the night at the hunting lodge. Before Lucius took me away by myself," I said.

"Where is the Pensieve now? Is it in that package he handed ye?" he asked, looking at me warily. He actually looked dangerous, so I lied to him. At least about part of the story, that is.

"It's at NYAF headquarters, locked up in a high-security vault. Erik took it there," I said. "But what he doesn't know is that it's empty—I removed all the memories before I gave it to him." I hadn't, of course.

Walden visibly relaxed. "So all he knows is that I showed up and took you to Lucius, and he actually has no hard evidence of that," he said.

"Well, yes," I replied.

"Before we continue discussing this, my lass, shall we go to our room?" he asked, coming closer and taking me in his arms. "I apologize for what happened. When I met that Auror, years ago, I actually enjoyed his company. Shame, all that," he added, and then he kissed me. "I'll tell ye the whole story, as much as I know, at least," he said. After a while, he withdrew himself and stood up. He slipped his sweater over his head, flicked his wand to rearrange his hair, redonned his hat, and said, "Why don't ye leave on my cloak, ye look a bit chilled." He picked up my suitcase and held out his arm. I nodded toward the door. We walked together down the hall, and when we were outside the Institute, I re-set the wards. Then Walden Apparated us to the bed-and-breakfast, which was called the Crystal Annex.

"As ye know, Lucius and I have been friends and associates for many years, since we were together at school," began Walden. He was sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire in our room at the bed-and-breakfast, drinking whiskey, which he had gotten at the Crystal, along with a rather sizable tray of food (which he had referred to as a "midnight snack"). He had told me that we'd be staying here for a week or more, so while he was gone, I had hung up and put away some of my clothes. I also took a quick shower, as the room also featured an en-suite bathroom (also large, in true wizarding style). When he came back, and after he had divested himself of his clothes, withdrawn and expanded his own suitcase from the pocket of his cloak, and donned a large green lounging robe, Walden had pronounced the room acceptable.

"Yes, I've gathered that," I said, from the other armchair.

"Now Snape and Lucius have known each other for some time as well. I told you before that Snape was close to Potter's mum?" he said.

"Yes," I answered, not really wanting details about this part of things.

"Well, from what I understand, Snape met her before they went to school, and they were friends until he began hanging round with Evan…Evan Rosier, that is, he was a close friend of mine…and a few others who joined the Knights right after they got out of school. Her being a Gryffindor and a Mudblood, she started listening to her friends who were sayin' how awful he was…" Walden paused.

"Look. _Why_ do you use that horrible word, anyway?" I asked. It was considered the height of gaucherie in Massachusetts to even think it. I'd heard people refer to it as "the M word," in fact.

"What word do ye mean, lass?"

"You know," I said, squirming. "The, er, M word. Mud…thing."

"Ye mean Mudblood? Because that's what they are!" Walden exclaimed. "And if we let them take over, they'll bring us back out and we'll be killed and burned like we were before….else we'll be their servants, doing all the things they canna do. It's never ended well, lass….look what happened here!"

"You know I don't agree with you one bit, and I wish you'd stop mentioning the, er…Knights," I said, weakly. _Or at least stop calling them that_, I thought.

"Sure ye don't agree wi' me? Nay, _I'm _sure ye'd be right next to me wearin' a robe and a mask if they started the trials here like they did before," Walden added, and then said, "And what's the matter with talkin' about the Knights? Do ye want to hear the rest of me story or nae?"

"I'm sorry, go on," I said.

"Well, our Lord told Snape he should set his sights elsewhere, but, as I told ye before, he went around telling the rest of us that his heart was broken, as if that's the sort of thing we wanted to hear," he snorted. I honestly couldn't believe Severus had been so naïve. What, he expected the Death Eaters to be a support group? "And after that, Snape got closer to Lucius, to help him with his ambition…" he said, standing up and approaching me. "I really think we need to end this discussion for tonight, Rowan, I can see it's upsetting ye."

"No, no, go on," I said. Obviously, I had made a face during that revelation. Well, I always had been one to wear my heart on my sleeve. "When did you meet Severus?"

"The first time that I ever actually met him was at his initiation, and I didn't like him at all," he said. "Lucius recruited him because of his Potions prowess. Lord Voldemort concurred."

I attempted not to let Walden see me flinch at the name. As he was staring into the fireplace, he clearly hadn't, and was continuing. "I tried to have as little to do with Snape as possible. He was always trying to get me to join in with him at the Revels," he added. I thought, again, of the scene that Severus had showed me through the pendant. "I did once, but I just don't have the taste for some of the things Snape does. I prefer to send me partners along with a Memory Charm after I'm done with 'em. It's easier that way," he said.

I didn't know who to believe. "These Revels," I began.

"What of them? Our Lord began the tradition, and Lucius has been continuing to hold them since then. They sometimes involve Muggles, and sometimes they do not. They're held on the solstices, the equinoxes, and the old Celtic fire festivals. Mostly, they're very much like the night that ye spent with Lucius and me. That's about it," he said. "Unless ye'd like another demonstration, but I think Lucius went back home," he added, with a leer.

"Solstices? Was there one last month?" I asked.

"No, there isn't ever one in December. Many of the wives objected to it," he said, smirking. "Including my former one." He paused. "We don't have to attend the Revels if you don't want to, when ye—if ye decide to become my wife," he said. "Although it did seem to me that ye enjoyed yourself with us that night," he added.

"Well, I usually have a conflict on those nights," I said. "You know, a religious conflict."

"Oh, of course. There are members of my family who practice religious witchcraft," he said. "An aunt and some of my cousins. So I'm familiar with it." He stood up and took my hand, and led me toward the bed.

"Really?" I answered, as he helped me up into the bed. He got up beside me. "Are you religious?" I asked.

"Not at all. I should go on with the rest of me story before we discuss that, though. Last year, at Hogwarts, Lucius' son—you have met him, correct?"

"Yes, unfortunately," I said.

"He is a right little twit, isn't he? He baited a hippogriff, and the beast attacked him. Stupid, really." He waved his wand and floated a bottle of beer over toward my waiting hand. "But Lucius will do anything for his family, and paid me handsomely to ensure that the creature was killed. I made sure I was there when the Committee oversaw the beast's appeal, and believe me; I had to pull some strings to do so. Needless to say, the hippogriff lost. But that night, just before the execution, the hippogriff somehow escaped. I am positive that Dumbledore had something to do with it—he couldna look me in the eye the entire night, and kept convincin' Fudge to blather about with procedural nonsense so that I couldn't keep a proper watch over the beast." He took a drink of his whiskey.

"They wouldna listen to me when I tried to get them to search for the beast, either, so I knew somethin' was fishy, but Dumbledore just dismissed us all, and that was that. I didna have anythin' against Hagrid, personally, but apparently Lucius does," he said. "At any rate, after the hippogriff escaped, who should be discovered on the grounds but Sirius Black. There was a handsome bounty on his head, and I was hoping to get a part of it. So the Minister sent me off to round up the dementors that had been guarding the school all year," he said.

"Oh, yeah, Severus told me about all of that," I said. "He and Black apparently had some old grudge or something."

"Aye, he was one of those Gryffindor friends I mentioned earlier. Surprised he told ye that part, then! So…it's bloody hard to round up dementors—you either have to have your Patronus ready to go at all times, or you have to clear your mind of anything pleasant. Of course, all I had to do was imagine what Lucius was going to say to me when I told him about the still-living and fugitive hippogriff," Walden said, wryly.

I laughed. "And let me guess," I said. "You were in his debt, then."

"Right in one. Literally, of course, as well—my damned wife had already spent all of the Galleons he gave me at Gladrags!" He floated the tray with the food on it over to the bed. "That's the last time she ever had any control of me money—I made damn sure of that, though," he added. I took an apple off it, and he reached for an enormous sandwich and took a bite of it before beginning his story again.

"Now, mind ye, Lucius can't have been that overly concerned about his son's memory, considering that he waited two years to do anything about it, so I do wonder what his other reasons were for all this. And he was the one, after all, who suggested that Snape take over as Head of Slytherin when old Slughorn retired." Walden took another bite of his sandwich and I had a sip of my beer.

"Anyhow, Snape arrived at the World Cup that day and came over to our campsite. He told us he had a prior engagement, I believe. Lucius called in his debt at that time—he asked me to watch Snape closely and follow him if necessary. That's when I saw ye," he said, sitting down the sandwich and taking my hand and kissing it. "I couldn't believe that ye'd want to be with Snape voluntarily. I was sure that he had put ye under Imperius. After that night, I went looking for ye…I thought ye seemed familiar, so I started with Diagon Alley. And sure enough, there ye were behind the counter at the Apothecary. I suppose Snape set that up for ye, as well as that apartment?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered. I picked up the apple and munched away.

"If ye were my wife, it would be your choice whether you wanted to work or nae," Walden said. "I actually doona need to work, but I do enjoy certain aspects of my job, as I've told ye," he finished. I shivered a bit, but it wasn't cold in the room. He continued. "When I told Lucius that I had found ye, he told me to arrange a meeting. And ye know the rest," he said.

I suddenly remembered something. "Why did you blow up my CD player, Walden?" I asked.

"Blow up…what?" He took the final bite of his sandwich and blotted his mouth with the napkin.

"Muggle device. It plays music. It was in my apartment," I prompted, sitting down the apple core. But—was it? Hadn't I used it, just the other day, when I was waiting for folks to show up for the ritual? I had been sitting on the couch, I remembered, reading through some ancient, browning copies of "Circle Network News" that Rhiannon had stacked up in her office.

"I don't know what you mean," he said. "I doona care for Muggles, but I certainly didna blow up anythin' of yers. I even returned yer wand to ye," he finished.

"You also ate some of the food I had sitting out, but I'm not worried about that, though. Do you think it's possible that Lucius could have somehow modified my memories of you with his curse?" I said.

"With Imperius Arcanum? Most certainly, as I told that Auror. He's been using that curse for years. When he said I was a brute, that's when he was probably starting the process of modifying your memories, but mentally, ye know. And then he sealed his commands to ye the first time he took ye," he pondered. "I heard everything that Lucius said. Foolish of him to insist we meet at me lodge. He's always underestimating people—that's his fatal flaw," Walden added. "So what were these memories?"

I got off the bed and walked to my suitcase. While I did, I saw Walden float the tray of food, which was now nearly empty, back over to the table. Reaching into the side pocket of my suitcase, I withdrew my CD player, which was not in pieces. Inside it, coincidentally enough, was the same CD that had been in it that night, Tom Waits' "The Black Rider." I remembered, even now, putting it in my suitcase right before moving to the Hogsmeade house. My memory was like a double-exposed Muggle photograph. "I'm not sure any more," I said.

"I shall tell you my memories of that night, then. I came to your apartment, robed and masked," he began. "I cast Imperio on ye so ye wouldna run away—I had already taken your wand. Ye'd already taken down yer wards, which is how I got in. Then I sat up wards on your door to alert the others." He paused. "I did eat some of yer food, and I did have a butterbeer, I'll admit that. Ye said there was food in the kitchen and I hadna eaten lunch. And I really like butterbeer," he smiled.

"Yeah, obviously, so do I," I said. "Sorry…please go on."

"I sat with ye on yer couch until Snape came in. When he did, the others Apparated and grabbed him, and then all of us Apparated to me lodge." He stopped for a moment and patted the bed next to him. I climbed up and sat close, laying my head on his shoulder. "We went to me trophy room. I sent the others away after they chained Snape to the wall. He started yelling at me immediately, cursing me, and rattling the chains. Goyle is such an imbecile! The chains that he conjured were so damned weak that Snape almost broke free. I had to go over and fix them. I was also trying to make some damned lust potion of Snape's devising, but I've always been bad at potions, so I was bollixing it up royally…." He paused again for a moment. "Should I go on?"

I nodded.

"So, while I was doing all that, I had sat ye down in a chair and Snape kept yelling at me and trying to get your attention. Lucius was late, as usual. You were crying and screaming. I went over to ye to try and get ye to calm down. I picked ye up and took ye in the guest room and lay with ye on the bed. That made Snape even madder, but I didna care. And then I couldn't wait any longer. I started kissin' ye, and I couldna stop, lassie, I had ta have me way with ye, right then. Well, I must admit I hadna taken off me robe and well—all the Dark energy, ye know. But I had been wanting to take you since the first moment I saw ye, like I said," he sighed. "You have such a strong will—even though ye were under me Imperio, you fought me at first, but I took me time, and after a while, I felt ye respond, and I took off me robe…and…och, I'll never forget it—it was so unbelievable, better than I had imagined," he said. He took me in his arms and lowered me to the bed.

"Rowan, I'd give anything to have met ye under different circumstances," he sighed, as he removed my robe and his. "I considered attempting to steal ye away from Snape long before that night. I wish that I had. Damn Lucius." Slowly, he moved his mouth down my body, paying particular attention to my nipples. "Ye've bewitched me…I love ye so much," he groaned. "Can you forgive me for having taken ye that first time?"

"It seems to me that I already have," I said, as I felt one of his large hands move down, and two broad fingers slide into me. I sighed and rocked my hips. "In fact, please take me now," I groaned. "I can't wait."

"Want to take ye from behind," he said, turning me over. I heard him mutter "Accio" and something flew to his hand through the air, presumably some sort of lubricant. After he used it, he then grabbed me around the waist and slowly slid into me. One of his large hands cupped my breast as he began to thrust his hips forward. He put two fingers of the other hand back inside me as he moved faster and faster, matching his hand's rhythm with the pulsing of his prick. "Oh yes, Walden, oh yes, oh Gods," I groaned. I felt no pain, only intense pleasure. I shuddered around him and came twice in rapid succession.

"Ohhhhhh," he groaned. "Me _anam cara_…so incredible."

"Harder, do it harder," I cried. He did so, and I came again, and again, and the waves poured over me and I was lost in sensation, slamming my hips back against him mindlessly.

He slid his hand back down around my waist and gripped me hard. "Och, Rowan, me sweet lass." And he gave a last mighty thrust and I felt his powerful muscles tense, and then relax, as his hot seed flowed into me. He lay, bent over me, for a few minutes, until both of us recovered, and then he lifted me up and placed me gently under the covers. I felt the light flicking of a Cleaning Charm, and then he took me in his arms and we slept.

The next morning, we both woke slowly. One good thing about wizards who were fascinated by the Dark is that they tended not to be morning persons. After a few muttered endearments and separate trips to the washroom, we bathed together, hastily donned robes, and went downstairs for breakfast. We sat at a long table with five other witches and wizards, who politely greeted us and then turned back to their food and drink. I didn't recognize any of them, but that didn't surprise me. Salem was, after all, a tourist town, and not only for Muggles.

Walden had tea and his usual prodigious amount of food. I saw him make a face and refuse the orange juice pitcher when it was offered to him, so I poured a glass for him and transfigured it into pumpkin juice. He kissed my hand. I had coffee and a bagel, which were both very good, and started to leaf through this morning's copies of the_ Boston Magus_ and the _New York Oracle_. (I eschewed the _Salem Enchanter_—it tended to be picayune like most local papers). However, I didn't process much of what I was reading. I doubt I could even have handled a _Magical People_ article at that point. I saw Walden reach for a two-day-old copy of the _Daily Prophet_ with a smile. I asked the witch who had just refilled my coffee for directions to the powder room. When I returned, Walden was still intent over his paper, so I sipped at my caffeine fix and stared out the window, and began to attempt to think, to sort out what I had been told and what I had seen in the Pensieve. It took me so long to do so that I felt as if I were starting up my first Muggle car—a decrepit Oldsmobile that had belonged to my grandmother—on a cold Massachusetts morning (which, of course, it was, being late January).

So, my memories of that evening at the hunting lodge were faulty—and Malfoy had possibly modified them. Or maybe Severus had modified them. Severus had definitely not, as I recalled, mentioned that Malfoy had been there. In fact, his descriptions of events had been terse in the extreme. He'd given Dumbledore the same story, now that I thought of it. Remembering that, I realized I was even more confused. What was real and what was illusion? Severus had known of Lucius' presence, so from what I had seen, he had definitely lied about that. And he had done a Memory Charm on me when it was obvious that Lucius' Imperius variant was doing its job. But Lucius, as I recalled, had done a Memory Charm on Severus as well. I thought it had just been about the ownership tag, but I had no way of reading the inner workings of Lucius' mind in the Pensieve. And he had said that he had somehow shut off the mental connection between Severus and I after we had all drank the lust potion. So how would I _ever_ know the truth?

And of course, I had not seen anyone Obliviate Walden. And the events had taken place on his turf. Did that mean that his version of events was the correct one? I glanced over to the wizard in question. He was on his fifth cup of tea and third plate of food, and he had moved on to the _Oracle_. I obviously had time for more reflection. I waved the witch over and asked her for a pen and several sheets of paper. When she returned, I wrote my thoughts out. On parchment (with the letterhead of The Crystal Annex surmounting them), they looked a bit less confusing.

I stacked the parchments neatly, folded them up, and tucked them into my robe pocket. Walden was now reading the _Enchanter_, and I figured I wouldn't have much longer to sit and think before he got bored of it. I was right.

"Rowan, shall we go back up to the room for a bit?" he asked, with a sly smile on his face.

Several hours later, we emerged from the room, very sated. It was a good thing I had gotten a coffee and bagel to go. We were planning to take a walk through the streets of Salem, so I was in Muggle clothes (but ones weird enough that they could be easily mistaken for wizard wear). Walden was in his kilt (and attendant winter garb) again, at my suggestion.

"Damn, I'm ravenous. Shall we go to the pub first?" Walden asked, putting his large arm around me as we walked down the stairs toward the entrance hall.

"You eat more than any three wizards I've ever met!" I said. "Where _do_ you put it all?" In no way could he be described as fat, as I have said before, merely large.

"Well, I believe ye've just seen some of where I put it," he said, chuckling. "That took quite a bit of energy!"

"As if I was just lying there, watching you?" I said.

"On the contrary, ye're more energetic in bed than any witch I've ever—" He stopped as the inn's proprietor approached us. She held up two owl-post envelopes that looked as if they had come through the Relay Service. The envelopes were made of expensive-looking grey parchment. I knew their origin immediately. There was also another envelope, smaller than the other two.

"Mr. Macnair and Mrs. Snape?" she asked. I flinched. Couldn't we have checked in under pseudonyms, like characters in a bad Muggle soap opera? Come to think of it, my life was rather like one these days.

I took my two envelopes and Walden took his, and the proprietor swept away down the hall. The place was very well run, I had noticed; our room had been made up when we had returned after breakfast. We examined our envelopes, side-by-side. Walden's read "Mr. Walden Macnair, Chief Executioner, Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, Ministry of Magic, London", and someone had marked on it, "Temporary Forward, c/o Department of Magic, Restricted Magical Creature Relocation Division, Boston, Massachusetts, USA," and then from there, "Forward, c/o the Crystal Annex, Salem, Massachusetts." It was somewhat a relief to see evidence confirming Walden's story. And his candor was refreshing after two years of living with the ever-secretive Severus.

"I sent an owl to Boston last night giving them this address. Rather efficient, your Department chaps!" said Walden. (Yes, the Department of Magic was open on Sundays—most of the employees were Pagans, or non-religious, after all.)

My envelope read, "Mrs. Rowan Hawthorne Snape, c/o The Salem Witches' Institute, Salem, Massachusetts, USA." In Inanna's handwriting (which was surprisingly neat), it read "Forward to the Crystal Annex, Salem, MA."

Both return addresses on the large envelopes were the same, though: "Malfoy Manor." No further information was given, as if to hint that if one needed to ask, one did not need to know.

"I think I know what these might be," said Walden. He produced a wicked-looking knife out of a sheath attached to his belt, and opened both the envelopes. He pulled several pieces of thick cardstock and some parchments out of his envelope. "Aye, it's a Revel invitation, for next Saturday—February 4th," he said. "And I'll just be done with my stint over here by then. And it seems that Lucius enclosed a personal note, requesting that I bring ye if at all possible," he finished.

"I'll attend," I said. I'd have to make a vague excuse to Inanna, who was priestessing the Imbolc ritual this year. I stuck the smaller envelope inside my cloak. It was from Inanna, and it was probably my invitation to the ritual.

After we had seen the sights of Salem, which hadn't changed all that much since I had left, we went back to the Cloudy Crystal and had dinner without incident. The next morning, Walden had an early breakfast without me and Disapparated to Boston (now that he knew his way around a bit, he was able to do so), telling me he'd return later that evening.

When I finally woke up, I found a tray with coffee and breakfast on it next to the bed. There was also a note, with a rose on top of it and a sizable wad of American wizarding cash tucked inside. "Dear R, Find yourself something appropriate to wear to the Revel. Yours, W." As the invitation had indicated that there was to be a formal dinner beforehand, I had some idea of what might be required.

But before my shopping excursion, I had some unfinished business.

* * *

NOTES:

This chapter's title is taken from the excellent movie "Memento," which explores the nature of memory, memory loss, and different people's perceptions of similar events. It's worth a rental!

* "anam cara" – Gaelic, "friend of the heart." I've also seen it translated as "soul friend." Again, don't ask me to pronounce anything Gaelic.


	17. Chapter 17 – Unfinished Business

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 17 – Unfinished Business  
**

First of all, though, I needed a bath. After I emerged from my ablutions, I took a sip of the curse-resisting potion. Glancing around the room, I saw Walden's green robe hanging up by the door, and sighed. Nope, the potion still wasn't making any of those feelings go away. I walked over and picked up my suitcase from the rack where it sat, next to Walden's open suitcase, and examined it. It didn't appear to have been touched since I had placed it there. I waved my wand over it and confirmed this. Odd as it seemed, Walden apparently trusted me.

I withdrew six items from the suitcase and sat them on the writing desk: the brown-wrapped parcel that Erik had given me yesterday prior to his abrupt departure from the Institute; the box of letters from the Relay Service, with Severus' unopened missive on top; the notes I had made yesterday morning on my faulty memories; the small letter that I had received from Inanna yesterday; the ownership tag that Severus had given me; and lastly, my invitation to Malfoy's Revel.

Then I had to get up and go to the washroom again. Come to think of it, I had to do that a lot lately. Must be nerves, I thought. Upon my return, I opened Inanna's letter first.

Oh Gods. There was only a note, and an item. A ring, to be specific.

And it was not my handfasting ring either—I suddenly realized that I still had my handfasting ring and the Snape pendant with me, bundled up with the clothes that I had been wearing on that fateful night in September. I went over to my suitcase and took out said bundle. Inside was a robe, the pendant, and my handfasting ring. I added Severus' ownership tag (that Silverman had adjusted for me) to the bundle, and fastened it up again, tying the whole thing with red thread to which I had added a sprig of mountain ash. (Red thread and rowan tree—proof against all witchery, or so the old legend said.). Then, I stuffed the whole thing back into the side pocket of my suitcase. From whom, precisely, was I attempting to protect those items, I wondered? I hadn't even bothered to use them in the ritual we had performed after my Pensieve viewing.

I took a deep breath after I had finished that task, and looked again at the ring and note Inanna had sent me. "_Dear Rowan—I found this on the floor of Rhiannon's office when I came by to check on the Institute last night. I'm pretty sure it's yours. No comment on anything else in this letter, girl! Are you coming to Imbolc? Stop by the store ASAP—I'm putting together lesson plans for next year. BB, Inanna._" The ring was indeed mine. I had been wearing it for several years. Each Beltane and Samhain, I renewed the charms on it—the anti-fertility charms. And I had not been wearing it for one, or possibly even two extremely active days with Walden. I decided that I wasn't going to give that matter any more thought at the moment and put the ring back on. What would happen, would happen. We witches, after all, were prepared for such eventualities.

And geez, the lesson plan thing. Really funny, Inanna, I thought. Classes at the Institute began the week after Imbolc. It appeared that Inanna was just as prepared as I had always been, back when I had been a teacher.

Two items down, four more to go, I thought. I didn't really need to do much with the invitation to Malfoy's Revel, as Walden had already sent an RSVP for both of us. So, I stuffed both it and Inanna's note into the box of letters from the Relay Service.

My notes on my memories and such might need to be added to, I considered. Those, I placed at the end of my journal, the one I attempted to write in daily. Now there were only two items remaining on the table—Erik's package and Severus' letter.

I opened Erik's package first, after checking if it had been touched—the spell revealed that only Erik and I had.

It contained a small box, which was wrapped in more brown paper, and a letter, and a card.

"_Dear Rowan,_

_If you are reading this, it means that my apology didn't go as well as I planned. _

_First of all, I received notice this morning that Macnair was scheduled to arrive via a Department of Magic official Portkey in Boston. Apparently, he's coming here on official business, but I thought I should warn you so you could leave Salem. If you're reading this it means I didn't take you back to the city like I was hoping, but if you need to leave fast, you can reach me at any time at the Muggle phone number on the enclosed card."_

(I looked at the card—it bore a NYPD logo, Erik's name, and a Manhattan number.)

The letter continued. "_And Malfoy has dual residency, a private Portkey, and an estate in Connecticut, outside Hartford. A letter you dropped last night from him had his address in it. I gave it to my buddy at the Hartford Auror Force. Just the address, I mean, not the letter. I destroyed the letter. I didn't think you'd mind. Malfoy is a sick fuck."_

(I wondered what on earth Lucius might have said, and decided I didn't care. It was probably, in the words of an old Muggle song I recalled from my childhood, a morass of "_vague obscenities_." Like I needed any more of those.)

"_These guys mean business, Rowan. I've enclosed a special Auror's Portkey. Don't open the box unless you want to activate it—it's a one-time-only use item. And it's charmed to go from anyplace in the world directly to one place only—the Magical Witness Protection Program offices at NYAF HQ. Those offices are open 24/7. _

_My sister-in-law died because she trusted one of those Dark wizard bastards in New Orleans. I truly hope you don't make the same mistake. In fact, I know you'll do the right thing._

_May the Ancestors (and your Ancient and Mighty Ones) guide you well,_

_Erik."_

The small parcel was obviously the special Portkey. I put Erik's card on top of it, charmed it so that it would appear to be a rolled up T-shirt, rewrapped it and stowed it in the side pocket of my suitcase next to the red-thread-bound bundle. I then burned Erik's letter in the fireplace and sent the ashes away to a secret crossroads that Institute witches had used for hundreds of years for similar purposes. Living with a secretive, sorta-Dark wizard for the last two years had its advantages, I thought. I had learned that sometimes, a little paranoia was a good thing.

And speaking of said wizard, now all that was left to peruse was Severus' letter, and there was no more avoiding it. I looked at the clock on the mantel. It was 11:30 am.

I took a sip of water from the glass beside me and opened the letter.

"_My dearest Rowan, my wife, my only love,_

_I have written and rewritten this letter more times than I can count. _

_First of all, I hope that by now, you have used the Pensieve in order to rid yourself of the memories of that horrific night."_

(_Yeah, I thought, you don't know the half of it_.)

"_I also hope that you have decided to wait and consult with me before dissolving our bonds of handfasting. _

_My last hope, one that has been fading as the weeks pass by, is that you and I might speak, and be reconciled, and that there might be a future remaining for us—perhaps even the one that we had planned."_

(At this point, tears were streaming down my face and I was having a lot of trouble breathing.)

"_Before I continue, I must say this. As you are well aware, I do not often apologize. However, I feel that an apology is necessary for my dunderheaded actions on the evening prior to your departure for Massachusetts. I allowed my selfish lusts to dictate my actions on that evening. It was wrong of me to have given you the wine without informing you of its contents. It was also wrong of me to not have immediately apologized after we had made love. In that latter case, I allowed my anger at Malfoy, et. al., to overcome me to the point where no logic dwells—a point that I have, over the years, attempted to hide from you, often with no great success. I very much regret not having done so that night. If it were not illegal to use a Time-Turner to such purpose, I would return to that night and change my actions._

_I should also have told you about Lucius Malfoy's part in everything, rather than hiding it from you. Malfoy and I have a rather long history, you see. He aided me to, shall we say; improve my prospects so that I would be able to attract the attention of a suitable partner for my romantic affections. Many of the things that you believe that you know about my life, belongings, and residences are not exactly the truth. I do wish to tell you the truth, but I would prefer to have that discussion in person. _

_Of course, with Lucius, nothing is ever free. Apparently, my attempt to hide your existence from him and the rest of his cronies was a mistake, one for which we are still both paying the price. _

_Suffice it to say that I should have told you all this prior to our marriage, but I was horribly embarrassed at myself and my humble origins. Now, my embarrassment has, in part, cost me your love and companionship._

_Each night since the events at Macnair's I have relived my ill-chosen actions. Each night since you left for Massachusetts, I have relived my ill-chosen words. Each night, I mourn your absence. My bed is a lonely wasteland; I haven't slept much since then. _

_If you would consider writing back to me, it would please me greatly, as there are some matters that need attention, to wit:_

_I have enclosed the lease to the Hogsmeade store. I have signed it completely over to you at no cost. Through inquiries, I have discovered, however, that it is owned by one of Malfoy's companies. You may wish to have a wizard solicitor handle any further transactions_."

(I examined the second piece of parchment and it was just as Severus had described.)

"_Secondly, I have enclosed the deed to the Hogsmeade house. I have performed the same procedure as with the store. The house is completely free and clear of any lien, and is now wholly owned by you. I have engaged a company that specializes in such matters to oversee it as necessary. Their address is enclosed_."

(The next pieces of parchment were the deed and a Hogsmeade address, as I noted)

"_Those two items were two of your Yule presents. The other is an item that I'd prefer to give to you in person. If this is not possible, I shall understand._

_In the matter of our handfasting, I will follow your wishes. If you do not wish to write to me directly about this, please let Albus know so that he might inform me._

_I leave my life, my love, and my heart in your hands, to do with as you will, and remain, for the time being,_

_Your loving husband,_

_Severus Snape."_

"He did WHAT!" Inanna yelled. We had already closed down the Flying Witch and warded it with everything from Santerian spells to Native American medicine circles. I had thrown in Walden's wards, a sound-muffling spell Severus had taught me, and a visualization of a Thor's Hammer, just in case. Only then did Inanna pull the Muggle blender out of the back of the store and make margaritas for our discussion. We were on the second batch. We had pulled some munchies out of the store's kitchen at this point.

As soon as I had finished reading Severus' letter, I had re-opened the bundle of related items, placed the letter carefully inside, tied the whole thing back up with the red thread, and then I had additionally charmed the bundle so that it looked like an old Misfits t-shirt. The Misfits band logo was a hooded skull. I felt it important to keep my sense of humor. It didn't really seem like Walden's style to try an indirect attack on Severus through those items, but he had been a Slytherin after all, and blood will out. Hence, I took no chances.

Then I got dressed hurriedly, locked up the room, and ran through the streets of Salem toward the Flying Witch.

The first thing I told Inanna about was Erik's offer of amnesty through the Magical Witness Protection Program. Her jaw dropped. Then I went on and told her about Walden, the story he'd told me, the ring, Malfoy's invitation, and lastly, Severus' letter. Considering the current course of my life, it was good to have such a trusted friend.

"Yes, he gave me the house and the store in Hogsmeade." I finished. "Severus did, that is." I was trying very hard not to cry again as I said this.

"GAVE them to you?" Inanna repeated, passing me over a napkin to wipe my eyes.

"For Yule." I said, taking a drink of my margarita. Salt lined the rim. Inanna had done some time as a bartender at a Muggle club. "In the owl, the one I got the other day, he sent the deed and the lease." I wiped my eyes and sat down the napkin, and took another drink.

"OK, sooooooooooooo…let me get this straight. Severus, although he's not rich, somehow gave you a house and a store, and you're still married to him. Look, girl, I told you I never trusted him, but I did always think he was nice to you, in his own way. I guess he must have saved his pennies for all that. Now, Walden—is that really his name, like the pond?"

I glared at her. "Still up to your old tricks, I see."

She ignored me and went on. "Walden gave you a bracelet worth half a million bucks, and he wants you to marry him. And he really is rich; I know how much those creature experts make over here. And you may possibly be pregnant with his child," Inanna paused. "WAIT-A-MINUTE! THEN WHY IN THE HELL ARE YOU DRINKING?" She slammed down her glass after this sentence, as if to punctuate it.

"Inanna, get serious," I said. "I wasn't _planning_ to have his child."

"OK, so anyway, he wants to marry you, though, but there's a few teeny little problems—you're already married, and he's an executioner and a Death Eater…or wait, what did you say, they were called the Knights of Something? Yeah, we know alllllllllll about folks who call themselves that down in Georgia….and these ones don't even have to _pretend_ they're wizards, they really are!"

I groaned. "Don't remind me."

"Buuuuuuuut he has really great taste in whiskey, though," she drawled. "And next on this week's installment of As the Rowan Turns-let's not forget this third guy, that stuck-up dork from the World Cup, Malformed," Inanna continued, starting to snicker.

"Malfoy. Or you can call him Lucius." Please allow him to introduce himself, I thought. Of course, he tends to move right on past those formal introductions in most cases.

"What-EVER! Anyway, this Lucifer dude wants you to come to some big orgy at his, like big old estate, with all these grand high muckety-muck wizards, like (and she snorted here), the Knights. If I were you, if they start lighting anything on fire, I'd get the hell out! And, let's see, just to top the whole thing off, Severus used to do the nasty with Harry Potter's mother, back in the day," she added, taking a chip and dipping it into the salsa.

"Yep, you got it," I said, taking a chip of my own. I wasn't quite sure if Severus had actually done that, but I hated to interrupt Inanna when she was on a roll.

"And you want me to help you shop for a dress for the orgy? I mean, like, how long are you planning to wear the dress? Maybe you should get one of those paper ones like they used to wear back in the 60s. Might be more convenient," she snickered. "Hey, no double-dipping!" she said.

I glared at her again. "I didn't double-dip," I said, loading another chip up with spicy salsa.

"Sure, kid, I believe ya! Well, why not. I mean, like when am I ever going to get another chance like this? I'm not happy that you're missing my ritual for this shindig, but sure, I'll take you shopping. Ya know, that Gladrags place from England just opened a store here," she mentioned. "I bet they'd have something good, maybe in a skull motif."

"Funny. But, um, I don't think I should go there," I said, and explained to her about Walden's ex-wife and the squandered bribe from Malfoy.

"Yeah, you're right. Bad suggestion," Inanna said, laughing. "Hey, I almost forgot, do you want to take a look at my syllabus for next year?" She passed a stack of papers to me.

"No way, dude. I'm retired from teaching. Just call me Emeritus," I said, "I'll fit right in over there with all those stuffy old jerks," but I picked up the stack anyway. First on the list of suggested extra-credit books was RISE AND FALL OF THE DARK ARTS. I groaned. "Inanna, do I _have_ to look at this?"

"Why not? I figure _you're_ an expert in this subject at this point!" she laughed.

"Oh, BLOW ME," I muttered, running a finger down the page. "Well, for one, _that_ book is a load of crap," I said, gesturing at one of the titles. As I recalled, it was a very lurid paperback with an embossed Dark Mark on the cover. "Severus told me," I added.

Inanna picked up a quill and marked it off the list. "I dunno, I kind of found it interesting," she said. "All those theories, you know." I remembered reading it. The book's main thesis seemed to be that Voldemort, et. al. were the latest incarnations in a grand conspiracy, a magickal war between the Dark and the Light that had been playing out for centuries. There was a lot of material about reincarnation and so forth, and parallels with the Muggle world. The Knights Templar were somehow involved, but I wasn't sure how. I wasn't convinced that the author knew exactly how, either.

"Look, Inanna. These guys—well, I seem to remember reading some book about exactly this in my history class at my Muggle university. From what I can tell, most of them could care less about all those theories. They're into the Dark Arts for the money, power, and sex, and that's about it. You know, as a means to an end. I am fairly sure that Lucius has knowledge of advanced magickal theory, and Severus knows a hell of a lot about alchemy, and Walden has some crazy-ass idea that he's protecting the wizarding world…but as far as the others are concerned, hell, they'd pay homage to the Wizard of Frickin' Oz if they thought it'd get them somewhere." I thought of Crabbe and Goyle. "For all I know, maybe they do," I added.

"But what about—you know. "He who shall," et cetera. The Dark Lord?" Inanna almost whispered this last part. "I'm going out on a limb teaching this stuff, you know, but Rhiannon approved it," she said.

"She never let ME teach it!" I said, angrily, taking a drink. She had so bowdlerized my syllabus, as I recalled, that I had considered signing up to teach flying or Apparition. "I don't know," I said, calming down a bit to answer her question. "But I tell you what, I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts that the son-of-a-bitch has found a way to come back. Severus' Mark was bothering him at the World Cup. Walden has stated several times that he's sure the Dark Lord is coming back. And I've seen Walden's Mark, and Lucius' too, and both of them looked like they were darkening," I added.

"Mark? What are you talking about?" Inanna asked, loading more margarita ingredients into the blender. I waved my wand and Summoned a box of powder from the kitchen shelf.

"Better put some of this in," I said. "This" was an anti-hangover concoction (a potion in powdered form) that also prevented out-of-control drunkenness. "The Mark, you know, they all have it on their arms," I continued, after dumping the powder into the blender with a flick of my wand.

"Girl, you're really good at that," marveled Inanna. "He taught you well, young Skywalker," she added, in an ominous voice.

"Oh, put a sock in it," I said.

"Not until you tell me more about that Mark thingy," she responded, loudly, over the blender.

"Have you actually _read_ any of these books, or are you just asking me for the frickin' Cliff Notes?" I summoned the lurid paperback in question from the shelves in the living room. I knew it was there; I had put it there a few years back. Inanna had asked me to leave behind some of my books when she bought my store. I remembered buying it at a little old occult shop in New York that was now closed due to the owner's demise. In retrospect, those had been innocent days. The book thumped onto the counter. "_This_ mark, you doofus!" I jabbed my wand at the embossed green Dark Mark on the cover of the book, as Inanna poured out two fresh drinks from the small blender.

"The Death Eaters all have this mark on their left forearms, you know, wooo-oooo, sinister and all that. It's, like, branded or something. Magickally, of course. The Dark Lord put it there. He used it to call them for meetings, or whatever. And it can be used for other things, apparently," I continued. Severus, however, hadn't gone into detail on what those other things were, precisely…and neither had Walden or Lucius.

"_That's_ not in any of the books about this stuff!" said Inanna, as we clinked glasses.

"No shit! And, they're a magical order, too, in addition to being a bunch of—" I paused. I remembered what I had thought about them, when I had first met Severus. Thugs. Bullyboys. Killers. Brutes. And I was mixed up with three of them. (Well, two, if you put Severus in the "former" camp, which I preferred to do.) Had I even been thinking? "You know." I finished, weakly, and took a drink.

"Yeah, I know. And I know what you're thinking, girl. I'm not psychic, and even I can hear it," said Inanna. "It's not like I've never thought with those particular body parts myself, but you've really outdone yourself this time."

"Yeah," I sighed. "Look. Don't have your students read this piece-a-shit book. It sucks," I said, Banishing the paperback to its former place on the shelf. "RISE AND FALL is much better, even though it's a tough read. I can maybe send over another book or two for you. And tell them that there's a distinct possibility that "The Dark Lord Strikes Back" will be playing at a theatre near them real soon now." I took another drink. "But for the Goddess' sake, don't tell them you heard that from _me_," I said.

"And what sort of event will you be requiring these dress robes for, madam?" asked the snooty sales-witch in tones of extreme condescension. We hadn't gone to Gladrags. We had instead gone to Cabot's (since 1723), a rarefied robe emporium hidden on a very exclusive side street of Salem. There was a wizarding jewelers' right next door. I hadn't done much shopping at either place prior to this.

The witch at the counter, who looked as if she probably had a wardrobe full of starched undergarments from 1723, was currently looking down her nose at Inanna and I. Both of us were wearing leather jackets—I had gotten my old one out of storage at the Institute for laughs. (My laughter had slowed a bit when I looked at the Ouroborus I had painted on the back of it all those years ago).

"My employer," and Inanna gestured to me, "will be requiring these robes for a formal Ministry of Magic event in London," said Inanna, in a voice that would have put Scarlett O'Hara to shame. Close enough for government work, I thought. "And she was told to spare no expense," she added, with a wink. "So if you'd be so kind as to show us to a fitting room and send in several models, we'll decide which will be appropriate," she finished, cutting a nimble figure-eight around the ice that surrounded the haughty witch.

"But—but, of course, ladies," replied the sales-witch, who only lost her composure for a second. "Right this way, if you please." I tried not to giggle. As we were escorted to a divan, handed sparkling meads in tall, fragile glasses, and left alone in the curtained room, I stared at Inanna.

"Honey, didn't I ever tell you about my debutante ball in Macon?" said Inanna. "You're not the only one who was brought up correctly," she finished, referring to my very-upper-middle class Muggle background (a fact which I hadn't revealed to many).

"I don't think I can handle much more paradigm-shifting information right now," I said. The curtains were abruptly flicked aside (by magic, what did you expect?), and some tinny-sounding string music began playing (so we could, if we wanted, party like it was 1723). In walked several statuesque witches who looked as if they were all on yearlong hunger strikes. They were dressed in the finest and latest dress-robe fashion, straight off the pages of WWW (Witches' Wear Weekly). At least one looked Veela-like. I thought of Severus' long-ago affair and grimaced. I gestured perfunctorily at one of the stick-witches, who was wearing a hunter green chiffony-looking robe, with Celtic designs on it.

"I'll take that one," I said.

"No way, dude, that looks too much like your handfasting dress!" whispered Inanna, frantically, into my ear. "Is _he_ gonna be there?" No need asking who she meant by "he." I assumed she meant Severus. I had been attempting to not think about that.

"All right, then, I'll take that one," I said, pointing to a second robe. It was dark purple and very low cut. Why not, I thought. It's not as if the host hadn't seen the rest of me before. Naturally, I'd be wearing all my new jewelry—the ¾ length sleeves would show off Walden's bracelet, and I supposed I'd have to wear the necklace that Malfoy had sent, as well. Knowing him, he probably kept a stock of them around to send out to all his conquests.

The anorexic parade departed, and the snooty saleswoman walked in again, and sent a magic measuring tape flying toward me. I stood up and held up my arms. When it had finished measuring me everywhere, she returned it to its case with a loud SNAP!

"There is a gentleman waiting out in the main sales area for you," she remarked, her jaw barely dropping. I had had just about enough of mystery gentleman showing up these days, but Inanna and I gamely departed the salon, anyway. Who knows, it might be the Secretary of Magic or something, I thought. I'd always wanted to meet him.

However, it was not. Instead, Walden was next to the front sales counter, in his formal Ministry robes, the ones that he normally wore on Saturdays. (And yes, he was wearing his axe). He appeared to be paying for my purchase. I fingered the large wad of notes in my pocket.

"And I would like that shipped by Owl Relay Service Express Post, today, to the following address," he was saying. Another sales-witch, who was younger, was staring appreciatively and appraisingly at Walden as he filled out the parchment card with his address and handed over the payment. I figured she hadn't spotted the axe. After he had completed the transaction, Inanna walked right up and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Pardon?" he said, turning around and sitting down the quill. "Ah. I thought ye'd probably be here with Rowan," he said, glancing past Inanna toward me. I looked at him and smiled, and he reached his arm out and pulled me toward him for a kiss. "Ye'll look amazing in that robe, my sweet lass, although I'd rather see ye out of it," he murmured quietly in my ear. "I asked the proprietor of the inn where ye might have gone shopping today," he remarked, a bit louder, to both Inanna and I. "And I took care of everything, as well," he continued. "Shall we go?"

Cabot's, I am sure, would never be the same.

* * *

NOTES:

* "…vague obscenities," from Janis Ian, "At Seventeen"

** A reference to the late, lamented Magickal Childe shop in New York City.


	18. Chapter 18 – Questions and Answers

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

And yes, I know I'm leaving you with a fairly nasty cliffhanger at the end of this chapter. Sorry!

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 18 – Questions and Answers  
**

Walden Apparated us both back to the bed-and-breakfast. While we waited in the sitting room, he went upstairs to change out of his Ministry robes. "If ye were to go up with me, your friend would have to wait all night for her dinner," he whispered. I giggled. Inanna punched me in the arm. When she and I were alone, she glanced quickly around the empty room.

"Girl, who are you going to choose?" Just like that. I've said before, she was direct.

"I don't know," I said. I could be direct, too, when I wanted to be.

"What about Erik?" she asked.

"What about him?" I replied, looking at the fireplace. I thought about his letter. Although I had destroyed it, I remembered exactly what it said, and hadn't said.

"I think he was interested in you, too," she said, leafing through a copy of _Towne and Countrye Enchanter_ that had been artfully arranged along with a group of its peers on a side table. No _Magical People_ or _American Wizard Today_ copies were in sight around this place. Clearly, the Annex was attempting to cater to the upscale wizarding community. This community had never been very large, but in recent years, its numbers had swelled, due to the successes of Information Processing wizards on the Left Coast.

"No, he wasn't," I replied, zipping and unzipping one of the diagonal zippers that festooned my leather jacket. I reached in the pocket and pulled out a crumpled old flyer. "The Misfits, Nervous Eaters, and Reptile House, live at the Rat," it read, complete with hooded skull logo. "Sheesh, I can't escape this stuff anywhere," I groaned, stuffing the offending piece of paper back into my pocket. Of course, I still had my Misfits tattoo, a result of my "misspent youth." Walden thought it was funny. He enjoyed the rest of my body art, as well. I was glad once again, though, that I hadn't gotten the skull and snake design that I had seen on the wall of the tattoo shop in Baltimore all those years ago.

"You are so wrong. He told Rhiannon that he was interested in you, when you were in the Pensieve by yourself. I heard him."

"Well, he had a really strange way—" but I paused. He actually had offered me a way out of the confusion, which was, I considered, a cop's way of showing affection. "Well, I'm a bit preoccupied elsewhere right now," I finished.

"Yeah, like everyone in Salem has noticed, sweetie," she said. "Carrie asked me about it after you guys left the other night. I think she thinks Walden is hot."

"He _is_ hot, Inanna, not that _you'd_ notice," I said.

"It's not like I don't notice, girl, it's that I don't want to do anything about it. Now, his daughter, on the other hand…." she said, winking at me. "Anyway, so after Carrie brought me another drink, well, then—" she raked her fingers through her short purple spikes and let her sentence trail off. I suppose the hair color change was in honor of classes resuming at the Institute, as purple was its official color.

"Not Moonwillow, please, anything but him," I said, getting on my knees in front of Inanna and making a mock bow.

"I could lie to you, but you know I'd never do that, girl. Yep, he sat at the table—I guess his friends had taken off-and went on and on about, well, about Walden's job and stuff. I never did get that deposit counted. I finally got up and told him I was going to the ladies' room and then snuck out the back. Dork. He should know by now that I'm not a lady!" she said, laughing.

I stood up and returned to my chair. "So what do you think I should do?" I said.

"Girl, I have no idea. One thing's for sure, though—which of those guys do you actually trust with your life?"

And that was indeed the crux of the matter. As I started to reply, I heard a heavy tread on the stairs and closed my mouth. Inanna and I both stood up.

"Well, ladies, shall we visit that pub again?" said Walden.

There were quite a few lobster shells strewn around our table, and every drawn butter container was empty. Walden, who was wiping his fingers off with a napkin, winked at me. My stomach gave a happy little flutter. I hoisted my beer glass to my mouth and took a long, very satisfied drink. I was glad I had suggested that we spike the margaritas we had consumed earlier, as under normal circumstances I'd be more than a little drunk at this point.

"What I don't understand," Walden was saying, "is why on Earth would anyone WANT to relocate a dangerous creature? And why ask someone from the Committee to do it? We relocate creatures to graveyards! And then they went on, at length, about something called an environmental impact statement. I've never heard such Muggle rubbish in my life. I had to drink that coffee shite just to stay awake in those meetings—it was worse than some of those History of Magic classes at Hogwarts." Both Inanna and I decided not to say anything. He went on, "And most of the people at the office were sitting around doing absolutely nothin'!" he said, pouring another shot of whiskey for both himself and Inanna, and chuckling as he did so.

"Welcome to Massachusetts and the wonderful world of extreme liberalism and patronage jobs," said Inanna. "You'd probably enjoy where I'm from a lot more," she added.

"Where is that?" he asked, after throwing back his shot.

"Georgia. The South. Lots of old wizarding families down there, apparently, although I never knew it at the time. But my daddy used to take me hunting when I was a little girl, and he knew some of the legends. Like I said, it's different," she finished, picking up her shot and downing it.

Inanna was a Muggle-born witch, I thought, with a small measure of panic, and she had just essentially admitted it. I hoped she wasn't going to mention any Knights, either. Should I say anything? I decided against it.

"Well, I'm sorry I won't get the chance to see it on this trip," he said. I let my breath out slowly. Crisis averted, I hoped. Walden turned to me and took my hand. "Lass, we're leaving on Friday morning. The Department chaps have kindly offered the use of their Portkey," he said. Inanna nodded and quietly excused herself from the table.

"Leaving? Did you want me to, er, go back to your lodge?" I said. I suppressed a shiver when I thought of that creepy trophy room.

"Of course, and I hope ye decide never to leave," he added. "There's more than enough room for ye." I hoped that he didn't mean that I'd eventually be stuffed and mounted on the wall. And then I giggled, realizing what that sounded like. He looked at me expectantly.

"As long as I don't have to hang out in your trophy room with those, you know, house-elf heads and stuff," I said, trying to keep things light. I would not mention the unicorn. I would not. I could still see those dripping, silvery tears.

"House-elf heads?" he asked, quizzically. "Whatever do ye mean by that?"

"Your trophy room," I said, slowly. "There were house-elf and—and goblin heads on the walls in there. Don't you keep your money at Gringotts?" I asked.

Walden threw back his head and laughed. "Lucius must have been having ye on somehow! There's nothing on me walls that would get me in trouble or lose me job," he said. "It's a very standard wizard hunting lodge, built by my great-grandfather, with a main house and a barn full of Crups, Kneazles, and a few Quintapeds." He smiled, apparently at the thought of all those animals. "But I'm afraid it would be a right mess and I'd starve all the time if I were to have—" he sputtered with laughter. "House-elf heads! Salazar's ghost! I've only ever seen those over at….well, some of the old families do put their elves' heads on the walls, but after they die…they doona kill them to get there…and I've always thought it was rather odd. And goblin heads? Nay, I like me Galleons where they are! You actually—do ye think, if I got ye another Pensieve, that ye could show me all of that? I need a laugh after the dreadful day I had today," he said. He sighed and poured himself another drink of whiskey.

"Yeah, I think that might not be a bad idea," I said, slowly. The wad of wizarding cash that I hadn't used at Cabot's was burning a hole in my pocket. I wanted to take it to a bookstore and Transfigure it into a pile of books so badly I could taste it. By my reckoning, I had more than enough to purchase another Pensieve along with my literary indulgence.

"Do you think she's coming back soon?" Walden said. "I'd really like to settle up so I can take ye back to our room and pound you into the mattress," and he growled these last few words into my ear, even as he pulled my chair closer and slid his large hand onto my thigh. "I've got to be back at that damned Department early tomorrow, probably for some more of those blasted meetings, so we should get to bed early," he said, with a leer. "Thinking about fucking you tonight was the only thing that kept me awake all day," he finished. And then we started kissing. I reached down and brushed a hand over his hardness, which had tented his robe. "Mmm. Keep that up, lassie," he muttered, "And I'll bend ye over the table, spread some of that butter on you, and take ye right up the arse."

"Earth to Rowan! Come in, Rowan!" I heard Inanna's voice from somewhere and remembered where we were. Blushing, I withdrew myself from Walden's exuberant embrace.

"Annnnnnnd—the Bulgarian judges weigh in with a 7.5!" exclaimed Inanna in a sports-commentator-like voice. I shook my fist at her. "I'm out of here, kids—don't do anything I wouldn't do," she said, as she gave a cheerful little wave and headed toward the door. "Rowan, stop by tomorrow," she added, just before the door closed behind her. Cerridwen approached our table with the bill.

"Damme, lass, ye're incredible at that," said Walden, with a sigh.

"Um, so are you," I said. We were entwined around each other in the wake of a prolonged bout of mutual gratification. It seemed that his oral fixation had a very practical outlet. I had stopped counting after ten orgasms.

If and when I ever walked away from Walden, I was certainly going to miss the sex. And I wasn't even going to try and compare him with Severus. It was different—not better or worse, just different. More intense, I'd have to say. And Walden, for all his apparent contradictions, was so much easier to deal with on an everyday basis than Severus.

"So I've been told before," he said, with a smile. "I enjoy eating." He gently withdrew himself, got up, and walked into the washroom. I got under the covers.

"I'm not quite ready to turn in yet," he said, after he returned and got in bed next to me. "Are ye up for another round?"

"You're the one who needs to be up," I said, with a smirk. "Look, can I ask you something?"

"Whatever ye like," he replied, pulling me close.

"Have you been sending owls to Severus?" I asked. I hoped that I didn't spoil the romantic mood with that question. It was a risk, but I had to know.

"Why in Salazar's name would I want to waste me time? There are only two words I want to say to him, and I have to say them in person while pointin' a wand at him," he responded. "One of them begins with an 'A', and ye can guess the other one."

"Then—why," I began. "Oh, never mind. I'm sure they're really from Lucius," I sighed. "He must have a hell of a lot of free time."

"He does," Walden said. "So what was in the owls? Did he send him a Howler?" he asked.

"Not that I know of. They were congratulating him on his loyalty and good taste," I said. "And there were supposedly lots of them."

Walden laughed. "As if I'd bother to do so! Not that I don't think the latter is correct," he said, rolling me over so that he was on top of me. "Ye do taste damn good," he groaned. "Look," he began. "You'll see me lodge soon enough. And I think I'll take you into me Pensieve, lass. That's the only way you'll ever be satisfied about all of this," he continued, his fingers slowly sliding down my sides, gently tickling me.

"Oh, I have the feeling I'm going to be very satisfied before long," I said.

"Ye are," he concurred, as he parted my thighs and slid himself into me.

During the remaining days in Salem, I spent more time with Inanna. She special-ordered me a Pensieve through owl post (I felt it necessary to support my old store), to be delivered to the Macnair Lodge. Neither she nor I commented when I wrote that address on the parchment. We had more margaritas. I didn't owl Rhiannon (although I did leave a thank-you note in her office), nor did I owl Severus or Erik. I did, however, send a Relay Service owl to Morgaine, telling her that I'd be back at the store within a week, and we'd discuss further plans then. And on Thursday, I went to a bookstore in Boston and bought a lot of books, some of which I had shipped to the lodge and some of which I gave to Inanna for her students' supplemental reading. One of them, which concerned, in part, a mysterious group called the Obsidian Order, appeared as if its conspiracy theories might have a bit more basis in fact than the lurid paperback that I had previously dissed. (I got an extra copy of that one for myself.)

On Friday, Walden woke me up a bit early and we made slow languid love as a tendril of dawn poked through the curtains in our room. We then bathed, closed up and shrank our suitcases and went down for a quick breakfast. Afterward, he settled the bill and then Apparated us directly from the inn's front room to the Department of Magic offices in Boston. A smiling wizard, the sleeves of his robe rolled up past his elbows, met us at the door.

"Walden! At last I get to meet your lovely lady!" He bowed and kissed my hand. "I'm Julius Connell, the Regional Supervisor here. I've heard a lot about you, Miss Hawthorne," he said. "I think I may have visited your shop in Salem a few years ago."

"Thank you," I said. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Connell."

"No, I must thank you for letting us borrow your fiancé this week. He's completely solved our problem." He winked at Walden. "And the Muggles won't ever be the wiser, thank Mithras," he finished with a smile. "I'll probably get our budget increased next year, thanks to you," he said to Walden. "If there's ever anything I can do for you—" he said, as the two wizards shook hands. "Your Portkey's waiting in the room at the end of the hall. Bon voyage!" he said. "And have a wonderful honeymoon!" He turned and began walking away.

We started down the hall. We had just reached the door to the Portkey room when we heard a breathless voice shouting, "Mr. Macnair! Mr. Macnair, just a minute!" A short witch, with obviously permed hair that was close to the color of Lucius', approached us at a run. She was wearing businesslike robes that were slightly ill fitting (she was a bit dumpy) and worn. She clutched a clipboard and a quill in her unmanicured hands.

"Aye," said Walden, turning to greet her.

"Oh, I know I told you this before, but I just love your accent," she gushed, smiling up at him and revealing a mouth full of crooked teeth. That sort of shocked me, as this was Massachusetts, land of employee perks. Didn't the Department of Magic offer a dental plan for its employees? I snorted a bit and frowned at her. She completely ignored me. "Mr. Macnair, you forgot to turn in your receipts, for your expense report!" she announced. Geez, I thought. Isn't that special?

"Right, right," he muttered, as he reached into his cloak pocket, withdrew a stack of parchments and handed them to her. She ruffled through them efficiently. "Here, let's see," she began. "The Crystal Annex in Salem; that must be where you stayed."

"Aye," he said. "We stayed there. This is my fiancée, Miss Hawthorne. Rowan, please meet, er-" his voice trailed off. He had clearly forgotten her name. I gave a triumphant, very toothy smile to the annoying witch (my parents had sent me to a Muggle orthodontist in my youth).

"Arianrhod Torrance," she supplied, looking annoyed. I nodded at her. "Charmed," I said, attempting to be polite. She sniffed and continued flipping through the papers, a bit less enthusiastically. "OK, here's four receipts for lunch across the street, and four from the Cloudy Crystal in Salem—dinner?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him. She obviously hadn't consulted a mirror for a while. Yuck.

"Aye," he said.

"And here's one from Cabot's. Dinner?" she asked again, as if she was inviting him. I peered over her shoulder at the receipt. The sum was staggering—and there was no description given. I doubted that this particular witch had ever heard of the place, considering the state of her robes.

"Aye, it was verra delicious," he answered, with a wink at me. His accent was normally rather heavy, but he was seriously over-exaggerating it to the point where he needed his own personal soundtrack of bagpipes and the bleating of sheep on the heathery moors. But otherwise, he didn't seem to be paying much attention to the witch, who was staring at him as if he were the only man in the world.

"Well," she said. "I'll get this processed and send it to you ASAP. May I have your address?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes again. _I doubt she'd have been trying this hard if she knew who he __**really**__ worked for_, I thought. There was a very large chance that she was Muggle-born.

"Mr. Connell has my address at the Ministry," he said. "Now we must be off," he said, giving her a perfunctory bow. He took my arm and steered me down the hall, paying no more attention to her. I tried not to snicker.

As we walked into the room, I noted that we had about ten minutes until our scheduled departure. Walden waved his wand behind us and closed the door, then cast a Silencing Spell on the room. I smiled at him. "Well, that wouldn't be the first time someone's padded a government expense report. But-Fiancée? Honeymoon? What in the Goddess' name did you tell those people?" I asked, once he was done.

Walden whistled innocently. "Didn't ye notice how that Mudblood was looking at me? It was the only way to get rid of her," he said. "After she kept insisting on bringing me cups of that damn coffee and trying to engage me in idiotic conversations at every turn, I made an announcement to the entire Department at lunch that we were getting married on Saturday." He shook his head and smiled.

"Great. I'm sure Lucius would just love to fit that in at his party," I said. Normally, I would have been more annoyed at the young witch's clumsy flirting, but I felt that given the situation, I really had no room to complain. Most witches didn't find Severus attractive. Walden was obviously another story. "So what happened with the creature?" I continued.

"I skived off the meeting on Wednesday morning and went and killed the bloody thing, of course. And then I relocated the corpse and Obliviated all the Muggles and the Department wizards in that particular tunnel," he said quietly, picking up the Portkey. It was a packet of papers, bound for the Ministry's Department of International Magical Cooperation. Clearly the Department of Magic didn't see the point in wasting a trip. "Then, I nicked a stack of parchment off one of the desks while everyone went to lunch and Transfigured it so that it appeared to be one of those ruddy environment statements they wanted. When I went back in yesterday, the entire group went down to the tunnel. At first, everyone simply stood around for a few hours while that Connell chap lectured at them. So, while they were taking a break for more of that abominable coffee shite, I created an imaginary creature, relocated it while they watched, and handed them the report."

"Well, they did hire a Slytherin," I said.

The envelope gave off a soft chime. Together, we clutched it and I felt the familiar tug at my solar plexus. We spun through the aethers until we landed on the floor at the Ministry of Magic's Portkey Office.

Walden opened the door to his hunting lodge with a flourish. A house-elf immediately scampered up and took our cloaks and bags silently, with a bow to Walden and a curious glance at me.

"Now, lass, I shall give ye the tour," he said. It was not a modest dwelling by any means, but it was much smaller than the manor that Severus had passed off as his. It was very masculine in appearance—lots of dark wood covered the walls, and various weapons were displayed above the chair-rail molding, along with the obligatory family portraits. I glanced at a few of them—they all featured large dark-haired witches and wizards, some in traditional wizarding robes, some in Scottish dress.

The floors were made of stone (I remembered them from my previous visit) and rugs lay at various intervals throughout the halls and rooms. Downstairs, there was an entrance hall with a staircase leading to the second floor, a large, rather impersonal living room with a fireplace ("I don't spend a lot of time in this room," Walden said), a formal dining room (also containing a fireplace), a powder room, and a very large and comfortable kitchen ("I usually eat in there," he confessed). The house-elves' quarters were down a short hallway leading away from the kitchens. Finally, adjacent to the kitchen, a small chamber for coats, boots, and hunting gear was located (what we in Massachusetts would call a 'mud room'). A door in that room opened on a stone walkway leading to the barn.

Then, he led me upstairs. The house-elf had already deposited our bags in the master bedroom next to a wardrobe. A bag bearing the Cabot's logo hung on the outside of the wardrobe; clearly, my dress robe had arrived. Next to the wardrobe, there was a doorway leading off to a rather large bathroom. A huge fireplace with a Slytherin banner hanging over it faced the bed, which was four-postered, made of dark wood, and enormous. Two large leather chairs with a table between them sat to the left of the bed. There were four large windows covered with heavy dark green curtains. Other than the lack of bookshelves, it reminded me a lot of Severus' supposed rooms, both at his manor and at Hogwarts. I decided to keep that comment to myself.

There were three more bedrooms and three more full baths down the hall, as well as a small study with built-in bookcases on the walls (which were not filled to capacity). "As ye can see, my lass, I have more than enough room here for you," he remarked. "And one of these days, I'll inherit the castle from my parents, although I don't want that to happen any time soon." He turned, and I followed him as we walked out of the room and back down the stairs.

In the hall near the living room, a staircase descended.

"This is the way to me trophy room," began Walden, before we began our descent. "I spend most of my time down here," he continued. "That night, we Apparated directly to it." We walked down the stairs, and I couldn't help feeling a bit nervous. Walden took my hand. "It's all right, lass, ye'll see," he said, comfortingly. I felt a pang of fear and began to tremble. Had I made a mistake trusting this man?

* * *

NOTES:

Yes, I did, in fact, write about decapitated house-elves prior to the publication of OOTP (although I have ret-conned my original statements just a bit)

The Obsidian Order" – this shadowy-sounding organization was borrowed, with permission, from the intricate and well-crafted story, "Any Means Necessary," by Winky's-Conscience, which sadly is no longer on this site. It is missed.


	19. Chapter 19 – Unicorn Heads

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 19 – There Are Worse Things Than Unicorn Heads  
**

The stone steps led down to a landing with an arched stone doorway within which was a closed, forbidding wooden door, reinforced by strips of battered iron. Walden waved his wand at it and it swung open.

"Well, here it is, lass," he said, leading me into the room and extending his arm.

I looked around. I had not, to my knowledge, ever been in this particular room before. The configuration of it was vaguely familiar—the door was the same as I remembered, and it was as large as I remembered—but otherwise, the room that I had seen in my Pensieve, and subsequently recalled, was completely different, as if I had visited it in a dream.

The room had very small, slit-like windows near its ceiling. There was a large fireplace on one wall, and there were framed wizarding pictures on the mantel. I walked over and looked at them. One showed a Quidditch team, dressed in green-and-silver. A younger, mustache-less Walden stood in the back row next to another large boy. Both were waving Beater sticks. And a younger Lucius, with slightly shorter hair, lounged on the grass in the front row. As I looked at him, he gave a laconic wave and took a quick, two-fingered puff on a hand-rolled cigarette. A brass plate on the frame read "Slytherin House – Hogwarts Quidditch Cup Winners 1968."

Noticing which picture I was studying, Walden came over and put his hand on my shoulder. "That was me last year at Hogwarts," he said.

I tore my eyes away from Lucius and looked at some of the other pictures. One of them had been taken at what I recognized as Platform 9 ¾. Two tall, dark-haired children in Hogwarts uniforms (complete with hats—Severus had told me that although they were nominally required, most of the students tended to lose them during the year), both with Slytherin insignia on their robes, stood with their trunks on wheeled carts in front of them, grinning and waving at the camera. Walden, who looked, in this picture, close to his current age, stood behind them, with a smile on his face.

"Me son and daughter," he said. "They're both out of school now." There was another picture next to that one, of a younger Walden, with a small, new-looking mustache, and an older wizard who resembled him. They were both carrying crossbows. "Me father and I, we had just come from a hunting trip," he remarked. The last picture I looked at featured a youthful Lucius and his wife, in very ornate dress robes. On her right stood a line of tall, blonde witches, who reminded me of the Cabot's models. On his left stood a line of wizards. I recognized two of them—Walden, looking as if he were in his mid-20s, and a much-younger Severus (who, when I looked closer at him, scowled). They were also in dress robes. The backdrop of the picture was a very ornate and medieval-looking wall of stained glass. "This isn't—" I began.

"Oh, it is, indeed," he answered, with a smile. "Aye, we were both there."

"Please tell me that I don't have to look at a picture of yours," I said.

"No, I've burned them all," he said, with a short bark of laughter. "I hope to have replacements for them soon, though," he finished.

I wanted to change that subject as soon as possible, so I turned and surveyed the rest of the room. There were two chairs and a large Oriental rug in front of the fireplace. Walden nodded to one of the chairs. "That's the chair ye sat in," and he winked. The walls were paneled in dark wood, and the floors were stone (about the only detail from my previous experience here that was correct). Other than the door we had come through, there were four other doors leading out of the room. There were some built-in bookcases. Some contained books; one had an assortment of glass decanters and crystal glasses on it. And there were indeed mounted heads on the wall, although none of them had come from house-elves, goblins, or unicorns. Instead, these creatures looked vicious. And they weren't moving or protesting their status, either—they were all obviously quite dead. I didn't know what all of them were, but I assumed they included manticores and hippogriffs. I did recognize two or three dragon heads, obviously from different species. And there were some non-magical creature heads as well, mostly stags.

Also in the room were three tables—two had chairs around them. The one that did not had a cauldron sitting on it. I seemed to recall that table—there had been a potion brewing on it that night.

"Hey, I just thought of something," I said.

"That this room was not what you expected, lass?" he asked.

"No. You don't _really_ have several giant, deadly, hairy five-footed beasts in your barn, do you?" I asked. I had suddenly remembered his remark about the Quintapeds.

He threw back his head and laughed. "Have things been that overwhelming for ye lately? It took ye long enough to respond to that," and he paused. "Nay, I only said that to see if ye were listening-there are no MacBoons in my barn. Nobody's ever been able to capture one. I do have some horses, though, in addition to my Crups and Kneazles. You might like to see the Crups—their tails are intact. Pulled a few strings," he said, giving me an innocent look.

"What a surprise. And so was this room," I responded.

"I told ye," he said, walking over to where I stood, staring at an elaborate chess set. It sat on one of the tables, which was large, had carved wooden legs, and was flanked by two wooden chairs with leather padding. He led me over to the first of the closed doors, and opened it with his wand.

"Washroom through there," he said. It looked pretty standard, as far as wizarding bathrooms went. A door, which was partially open, led into another room. I walked in. "Guestroom," said Walden. There was a large, four-postered bed and a side table. Another door led back, I presumed, to the trophy room. I had very clear memories of being in here.

"OK, this room I remember," I said.

"I should certainly hope so," Walden answered. "Let's go on to the next room. I want you to see it all before we come back here," and he gestured at the bed. We went back out to the trophy room, and he opened the other two doors. "Weapons room," and he gestured to the first. I peered inside. It was about the size of a large walk-in closet. There were built-in shelves on one wall and racks on the other, all containing a variety of implements. Several axes were, of course, there, as well as knives, crossbows, and other weapons that I didn't recognize. I nodded, relieved that there was not a robe and mask (or a Voldemort World Tour '80 poster or something) prominently displayed there, and turned back to him. "And finally, me office," he said, opening the last door.

I looked in. It was a fairly small room compared to the others, and it contained a desk and some built-in bookshelves, nothing more. The desk was empty, save for a stack of parchment and some quills in a pewter cup. There were some framed certificates on the walls, and some photographs. I stepped closer to look at them, assuming they probably had to do with his Ministry position. I was right. He was posed, in several of them, with what, according to attached brass plates, were other members of the Committee he served. In one, he stood, shaking hands with a man who I recognized as Fudge, the Minister of Magic, who held what looked like an award in his other hand. And in another picture, which made me smile, he stood with a group of uniformed NYAF Aurors. All were holding up full, foaming beer mugs. One of the Aurors in the back took a long drink as I watched. I recognized a younger Auror Silverman (with a full head of hair) standing next to Walden.

"I bring work home, sometimes," he remarked, leaning his large frame against the doorway casually. "Now, me dear lass, are ye satisfied? As ye can see, no house-elf heads to be found anywhere—except upstairs, properly attached."

"Well, not unless you've got a secret room behind one of those bookshelves, or something," I said.

"I'm afraid my grandfather was a bit too straightforward for that sort of thing; he was a Ravenclaw," he said, taking my hand and leading me back to the guestroom. We sat together on the bed and he took me in his arms. "I did enjoy myself in here, that night," I said. I hadn't wanted to admit that to anyone, especially myself. It was a relief to say the words aloud.

"I know," he said. "I could tell at the time," he added, murmuring these last words into my neck as he lowered me to the bed. "Sweet lass, I want ye to be with me forever," he groaned, as his hands worked over the fastenings of my robes. "Walden, I—" He stopped my response with a kiss. "Ssshh. Don't say it," he murmured. "Let's enjoy the time we have." He slipped my robe off me and threw it to the floor, then began work on my undergarments.

"I wasn't going to say anything about that," I said, smoothing my hands over his back and broad shoulders. I pulled him close to me as he removed my last scrap of clothing. His robe was unfastened at the top, revealing the white shirt underneath it. I moved my hands around and unfastened his robe and slipped it off him. His shirt had a high collar and was long-sleeved. I unbuttoned it and pulled it off him. He sighed softly as I ran my hands over his muscular chest, which was covered in thick black hair. "What I was going to say is that I love you," I continued, as I moved my hands down to his dark green boxer shorts, which were tented with the evidence of his arousal. He gasped as my hand slid over the material and massaged his prick. "Och, Rowan, I love ye, you know that," he groaned. Then I snapped my fingers and he was instantly naked. I couldn't wait any longer. I bent over and took him in my mouth. He reclined against the pillows and moaned with pleasure, thrusting his hips up to meet me as I slid my lips further over him, and then back up, swirling my tongue around the tip. "Keep doin' that...doona stop!" he growled, thrusting his hips faster. I licked two fingers of my right hand and slid them inside him. At this, he yelled incoherently, and then he suddenly seemed to grow even larger in my mouth, and he twined his hands in my hair and pushed my head into his crotch, gave a last, loud groan, and came, hips jerking wildly.

After he had recovered, he pulled me up so that I was cradled on his chest, and wrapped his arms around me. "Marry me, lass," he said. "I'll take care of Snape for ye, permanently," he added. I had been worried that he might eventually suggest something of the sort. A line from a poem that I had read in one of my Muggle university textbooks, in English class, drifted through my mind…._the brute, brute heart, of a brute like you_. Lucius, not that he had any room to talk, had been somewhat correct in his assessment.

"We've talked about this," I began.

"I think it's time to stop talking and do something about it," he said. "As I said, I'll take care of him," he said, with an element of finality.

"What exactly do you mean, "take care of him"?" I said, and then felt very stupid. "You—you can't do that," I said. I thought of all of the weapons I had seen in the small room. On the contrary-he could do just about anything he wanted. He was essentially knocking me over the head with his club and dragging me to his cave. Why had I presumed that it would be any different? I had been a complete idiot.

"I'll do what I like. Ye'll nae play with me heart, lass. Ye'll stay here with me and be me wife, and I'll take care of Snape," he said again.

I thought of what he had done to the creature in the Massachusetts tunnels, and the Gods knew only how many others over the past years. Through my own selfish and lustful actions, I had endangered Severus' life. "Walden, please. Please don't—"

"Shhhhh, lass. Ye don't have to worry about it any more," he said, pulling me close. "Ye're mine now," he added, with a tone that indicated that I should close the subject.

Shit. I had been hoping to speak with Severus, perhaps in Hogsmeade next week. I at least wanted an explanation or an apology for all the lies, the one he'd promised to me. Should I perform a Memory Charm on Walden? No, overuse of such had gotten me into this mess in the first place. I took a deep breath.

"Walden, I _haven't_ agreed to marry you yet, damn it!" I said, pulling myself out of his embrace and sitting up against the pillows.

"Then I shall convince ye," he said. "And if there is any more discussion about this tonight, I shall go to Hogwarts, find the greasy bastard, behead him, and string him up from the Astronomy Tower!"

"No!" I said, horrified. I had just made the situation worse. He was apparently beyond reason.

"I'll trust ye to go into Hogsmeade, but ye'll have no more contact with Snape. And the subject is now closed." His voice softened. "Now lie back and rest and I'll have the elves bring us a snack," Walden said, reaching up and tugging at a bell pull that I hadn't noticed before that hung next to one of the bedposts.

I lay back on the pillows, not feeling relieved in the least. It was true that the nightmarish setting of my Pensieve didn't really exist and had been, somehow, fabricated by Lucius, or perhaps Severus. But this new development was not good. I reminded myself that I did have a way out, but would I have the opportunity to take it?

* * *

NOTES:

The image of Lucius having his "happy smoke" cigarette was borrowed from Azalais Malfoy's story arc, "House of Ill Faith," specifically, "Sympathy for the Devil"…also no longer on this site.

See "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," by Newt Scamander, for information on all of Walden's pets (and victims).

"…_the brute, brute heart, of a brute like you_…." from "Daddy," a poem by Sylvia Plath.


	20. Chapter 20 - Spring Cotillion, Part 1

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 20 – The Death Eaters' (Early) Spring Cotillion, Part 1  
**

I woke up abruptly. We were still in Walden's downstairs guestroom. A house-elf (this being a relatively modest dwelling, there were only four) had brought a tray of food and some drinks (including mead) a short while after Walden had pulled the bell the previous evening. I hadn't eaten much—I told him it was because the last few days had been exciting for me. The real reason was that I was doing my best to not picture the horrible image of a headless Severus. I wasn't that successful.

After we had eaten, Walden made love to me slowly, with his mouth, murmuring that I was the best of all possible desserts. He was so thorough in his attentions that despite everything I found myself screaming his name and begging him to take me. He did. After the second mind-blowing orgasm, which we had shared, I had drifted off to sleep in his arms. And thus, here I was, my mind obviously still not working correctly. I gently moved out from underneath Walden's arm, which was possessively draped over me, and slid out of bed toward the bathroom.

I didn't tarry, as it was rather cold in there. When I returned to the bed, he was stirring.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I didna mean for us to sleep down here."

"It's OK," I replied. "But it's a bit cold."

"Come here," he rumbled. He rolled over so that he was on top of me. "I'll keep ye warm—always," and he bent his head down and kissed me. "Mmm. I've been sleeping down here recently. After that night, I had some of me clothes moved down here. It reminded me of ye, being in this bed," and he leaned back so that he was crouched over me. "I'd grab myself like this, several times a night," and he fisted his right hand over his hardness, sliding it back and forth, first slow and then faster. "I'd think about taking ye over and over, watching Lucius take ye, sharing ye between us," he growled. "Will you let us do that tonight?" he asked. "At the Revel?" His left hand moved down and prepared the way for him to thrust his hips and slide inside me with a satisfied grunt.

"Do I," I gasped and pushed up against him, "have a choice," I breathed. "Oh Gods—oh Gods, Walden," and I sighed with pleasure as I shuddered into my first orgasm around him.

"Oh, lass, ye feel so good around me," he groaned. "Aye, you do have a choice," and he began to thrust. "I'll—uhhh-explain it to ye—ohhh—later," and he wrapped his arms around me and moved a hand under my bottom, pushing me closer to him. He began to move faster and faster, and I came again, and we groaned almost in unison as the waves washed over us. "I want to watch ye suck him," he said. "I want to take ye from behind while you're making Lucius come—oh God, lass," he growled. That mental image made me orgasm around him with another groan. My traitorous subconscious clearly didn't care that I had decided not to have anything to do with Lucius again, as one orgasm turned into several multiple ones. He slipped two large fingers into my nether reaches. "Oh Walden!" I shrieked, and I melted. I had no more control; my brain was fogged with bliss. I heard his loud cry and felt him convulse and slam his hips into me. And then both of us sighed and rode out the aftershocks that coursed through both our bodies.

"Ummmm," he murmured, some time later. "Let's go have a bath and then eat," he said. "The Revel's not until 7:30."

"Isn't that kind of early for, like, debauchery and stuff?" I asked.

He laughed. "The debauchery and stuff, as you so interestingly put it, doesna start until 11. There are drinks and a formal dinner beforehand," he said. "And the main thrust of the evening," and he winked at me as he said that, "is really at midnight, of course." He stretched and swung his legs over the side of the bed. They were very nice—well-muscled like the rest of him. He stood up and ran a hand through his hair, and then stretched again. "Me bed upstairs is much more comfortable," he said, with a grimace, massaging his neck with his right hand. "Now that you're here, I think I'll leave this one for any guests we might have." He stretched again. "We'll be staying at Lucius' tonight, though." I looked at him appraisingly. He noticed.

"Not tired of looking at me yet, I see," he said, raising his eyebrows and extending a hand. He led me into the bathroom.

We ate a late breakfast (it was 11:30) in the kitchen. I drank tea. Walden promised that he'd have some coffee delivered next week. "Or you can get some in Hogsmeade," he said. "I know you want to get back to your store."

And it truly was my store, I thought, as I stared out the window toward the barn. And my house.

"Yeah," I remarked, taking a sip of tea. "I do. And I have to take care of the house, too."

"Hmm?" he said, as he picked up another piece of toast. "Take care of it, how?"

"I need to give it back to Severus," I said. No point in equivocating.

"Give it back? He gave it to ye?" he said, sitting down the toast. "Why don't ye sell it, then?"

"Wouldn't be right," I mumbled, pouring myself more tea and refusing to meet his eyes.

"Lass, it would be well within your rights for putting up with the greasy bastard for as long as ye have," he said, with a frown.

"I can't." I looked down at my plate of food, which I had barely touched, and pushed it away. "I don't need the money, anyway." I had a reasonable sum in Gringotts after having sold my store in Massachusetts. Furthermore, over the last two years, Severus had paid most of my expenses.

"You do what ye think is right, then, Rowan, but I want ye to handle it through a wizard solicitor, not with Snape," he said.

"I don't need to waste my money on a damn lawyer," I said. "I can send any correspondence to Al-, I mean, to Professor Dumbledore," I said. There was no point emphasizing that I was on first-name basis with a Gryffindor.

"Very well. I'm glad to see ye've come to your senses about this," said Walden, with a smile. His appetite apparently having returned, he picked up his toast and ate it in three bites. My appetite was on permanent hiatus.

"So, what was this you were saying earlier about how I had a choice at the Revel?" I began, wanting to change the subject. I hadn't actually said I would correspond with Severus in that way, I had just said that I could. I was beginning to get the hang of this Slytherin stuff. And I'd just have to keep on getting it, I thought grimly, until I made sure that Severus didn't hang as a result of my stupidity.

"Why don't we go have a look at the barn and I'll tell ye all about it?" he said.

The barn wasn't the largest I had ever seen, but it was very nice and obviously well cared for. As we walked in the large double doors, Walden gestured to his left, toward a closed door, and said. "There are two elves who live in there; I suppose you'd call them barn-elves. They feed and take care of the animals, and keep the place clean," he said.

I heard a yipping and three small dogs—no, Crups, I supposed, came bounding up to Walden. They jumped all over him. He petted them and smiled. "Their names are Wynken, Blynken, and Nod," he said. I saw them look up at him expectantly as he reached into his cloak pocket. Out came several dog biscuits. He tossed a couple of them to me and I fed them to the small creatures. "Note their tails," he said, as I did so. They had tiny, wagging, forked tails. "We don't get a lot of Muggles around here," he said, with another smile. "There are some Kneazles in the barn as well, but they're probably asleep. Useless things," but he chuckled and I knew he didn't mean it. He opened a door to our right. "Tack room," he said, gesturing me inside. The Crups followed us through the door, apparently hoping for more treats.

The tack room was redolent of leather. I smiled, almost involuntarily, at the wonderful aroma—there were so many (and differing) memories associated with it for me. In addition to the tack hanging on the walls, there was a small wooden table with two chairs next to it. There was a teapot on the table and Walden tapped it with his wand to heat it up. It wasn't that warm in the barn, so I was glad. He pulled out one of the chairs for me, and once I had taken my seat, he sat down and poured out two cups of tea. The Crups arranged themselves in a pile at our feet.

"Now, the Revel," he began. "As I said, there are drinks and a formal dinner party beforehand. Drinks first, dinner following. We'll be transported there in a Ministry car, which will be picking us up at 7:00. When we arrive at the Manor, we'll be announced. After the drinks, we'll be seated at dinner in a prearranged pattern, although I did note to Lucius that I'd prefer to have ye next to me," he added.

"I-well, I've been to similar functions," I said. Not as a witch, though.

"American Dark wizards have Revels?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea.

Damn. At some point, I probably needed to disavow him of the assumption that I was Dark. Of course, my recent actions and associations would hardly help me make that point. Not to mention some of my past ones. "Um, never been to one. I mean, I went to formal functions as, well, as part of another community—" Shit. I took a drink of my tea to cover up my embarrassment, and slipped some more biscuits to the Crups.

"The Muggle community, ye mean?" he said, looking at me curiously.

"Yes. You know I was raised as one," I said. "You told me you knew." And how in the hell _did_ he know, anyway?

"Aye," he said. "But you're a Pureblood, I can tell," he continued.

"Yes. You see, my father was an older, um, Department of Magic employee," I began. _He was an Auror_, I thought to myself. Thank the Goddess that Walden didn't have Severus' mind-reading ability. "And my mother was, well, younger, and worked with him, and—well, anyway, she left the wizarding community when she found out she was pregnant, and took me to a Muggle adoption agency in Boston. A well-to-do Muggle couple, the Hawthornes, adopted me. I knew I was strange as a child, but I never knew I was a witch until, well, after I went to college—to university," I said, changing to a Briticism to help make my story less confusing, although Severus had explained to me that which I already knew—there were no wizard universities. If students wished to advance themselves, as he had, they entered into one-on-one apprenticeships with accomplished witches or wizards in their chosen fields, much as Muggles had during Medieval and Renaissance times.

"Aye," he said, taking another sip of tea and nodding at me to show that he understood. "So your name is really Hawthorne, after the tree of the fair folk. And Rowan, did the Muggles name you that?"

"No, I took that name when I started at the Institute," I said. My given Muggle name was a deep, dark secret. Not even Inanna knew it.

"It suits ye, though—the tree of witchery," he said. "Ye never told Snape any of this, though, did ye?"

"No. He never asked me about my family again after I told him I was, um, Pureblood," I said, and winced at the last word. I didn't think I had ever actually said it aloud. As I've mentioned before, such sentiments were politically incorrect in Massachusetts.

"Rowan, lass, we talked before about that. All he wanted was an heir. He doesn't care about ye. I've watched him with ye. He doesna care about anyone but himself, the selfish bastard," he said, angrily. _My, my_, I thought. _Honor among thieves, or some such_.

I shivered and took another sip of my tea. Walden refilled my cup and his to the brim. "Well," I said, and then paused. "_He's_ not getting an heir from me," I finished, putting emphasis on the first word of that sentence by mistake. I had meant to emphasize the last one, but the words fell out of my mouth before I realized what I was admitting. I was sure, by now, that my anti-fertility charm had been broken when my ring had fallen off in Rhiannon's office. All that remained was a simple spell to confirm my suspicions.

"Did ye say what I think ye said just then?" he said. He stood up and came over to my chair, putting a hand on my shoulder. The Crups scattered as he stood, and then arranged themselves around his feet and looked up at me.

"Yes," I said. _How could I have been so careless?_

"And I hope ye don't mean that—that, Lucius-" he said, with a frown, his hand tightening.

"No!" I said. That would have been too much. Severus, of course, had told me that the lust potion he had made that night contained ingredients to prevent any unwanted results. And I had been wearing the ring during the following months, up until the night that Walden had visited me at the Institute. He reached down, then, and lifted me up into an embrace. "Lass, I'll not sire a bastard, nor will me child bear another man's name. We'll end yer business with Snape tonight," he said, firmly.

"Tonight? And miss the party? And what about, you know, at the Revels before, didn't you—" I could only imagine the bastard-siring potential inherent in one of those parties.

"Slow down, lass, I can only answer one question at a time. First, there are charms in the rooms at Lucius' to prevent conception. And we will all take potions to make doubly sure. It's a good thing, for we Macnairs are a rather potent bunch," he paused, and gave a small smile. _Don't I know it_, I thought—not to mention the sheer number of portraits I had seen upstairs. _And this isn't even the family home_, I remembered.

"And second, I have it on good authority that Snape will be there tonight," he said. I wondered when he would have heard that news, and realized that it must have been during our brief visit to the Ministry yesterday, after our Portkey trip from Boston.

"He-he will?" I wasn't ready to talk to him, not tonight. Why had I agreed to go to this event in the first place?

"As he and Lucius have maintained their friendship, he receives an invitation to each Revel. And this time, he sent Lucius a reply. I don't know what he thinks he's up to," mused Walden. "Are ye sure about this?" he said, looking at me quizzically.

"We can make sure right now," I said, knowing what he meant. The Institute's classes may have been deficient in many regards, but one subject that was covered extensively and well was fertility and conception magick. After all, our ancestors had been midwives and healers, or so our histories said. I felt suddenly faint. "May I sit down?"

"Of course, me darlin'," said Walden, lowering me to the seat as if I were made of porcelain. The Crups still stood, looking at the both of us, wondering what was going on, I guess.

"OK," I began, shakily. I took my wand out of my cloak pocket, held it in my right hand, and pointed it at myself. I then extended my left hand to Walden. He held it. I said the words of the spell in my mind—they had been passed down in secret to Institute witches since the 1600s. A small blue bell appeared in the air and rang once. One of the Crups yelped at the noise. I marveled at it—my results, when I had performed this spell at the Institute, had not been nearly as immediate or impressive. Of course, I hadn't been using an Ollivander's wand then, either.

I remembered what the results indicated. A blue bell meant a boy, a pink one meant a girl (the color schemes had been adjusted at some point in, I was sure, the 1950s). One ring indicated a single child, two indicated twins. I had actually seen the bells ring for triplets, once—it was rather neat. And for this particular spell, the father had to be holding the mother's hand.

"Lass, does that mean-" began Walden.

"Yes. Yes, it does." I said. "Nothing would have happened otherwise."

He picked me up, with very little effort, and spun me around in the air, smiling and laughing as he did so. The Crups jumped up and down and made excited whining sounds. "I'm very happy. I don't know what to say."

"You—you mean you want me to…uh…" _Oh geez_. I hadn't exactly expected to tell him. I hadn't expected to be carrying the child to term. I had been planning to pick up certain herbs at my ever-so-convenient store tomorrow, in fact.

"Of course! I've wanted more children for years, but Isobel didna. And yer spell—did the bell's color mean anything?" _He was really observant_, I thought.

"Yes. It's a boy," I said, unable to keep the trepidation out of my voice.

"Lass, you don't sound very happy about this. Did ye not want—" he began, helping me back into the chair. One of the Crups jumped up into my lap. I petted it absently. "Well, let's just say I hadn't given it much thought," I said, picking up my now-cold tea and taking a sip from it. That was a partially true statement, at least.

"Then let's talk about it more after the Revel," he said. "We may as well enjoy ourselves tonight. Although I don't want ye drinking much," he said.

"That's the last thing on my mind right now," I said. "Are you going to tell me more about tonight? Do you really think I should break the news to Severus?" I drank some more of the tea. Walden refilled and reheated my teacup.

"Mayhap if ye tell him, he'll leave before the _debauchery and stuff_," he added, with a wink to me.

"Will you PLEASE explain to me how this damn Revel thing works, Walden?" I said, sitting down my tea with a thump. Some of it spilled. The Crup on my lap started at the noise.

"Och. I forgot how women get during this time," he said, rolling his eyes.

I stood up and sat the Crup on the floor next to its companions. "Well, you'd better remember fast. Is there a restroom in here?" I looked around frantically. He gestured to a side door of the tack room, chuckling. I heard him mutter, "Maybe I'd better put in a few more loos for the duration," as I closed the door.

When I came out, he was lounging, boots propped up on a hay bale, sipping on his tea and fiddling with a harness. The door was slightly ajar and I figured the Crups had left the room in search of food or something. "What do you think of Allister? Or perhaps Gavin? Or maybe Evan?" he said.

"What?" I said. "Who are those guys? I've never even heard of them," I said. "Is this something to do with the Revel? I mean, I had only been planning to have you and Lucius in the room with me—I don't want a receiving line," I said. "Especially now."

"Nay, lass," he said, laughing. "I was thinking of names for our son. Allister is my middle name, Gavin is me father's name, and I had a friend named Evan," he said. "I think I told ye about him…he actually did attend the Revels at one time." *

"Damn it!" I said, stamping my foot. "I'm NOT talking about baby names right now! I haven't even had time to get used to the idea, and we're still not married yet! Now will you PLEASE tell me about the Revel, or I'm going to leave early and ask Lucius about it!" And I turned to walk out of the room.

"I think not," he said, and I was suddenly jerked back toward him. Walden had sent the harness that he had been examining flying through the air and around me. I landed, all trussed up, with an undignified "thump" onto the hay bale. He climbed up and straddled me. "I'm not letting ye go anywhere at the moment, my sweet, feisty lass," he growled, and then he bent over and kissed me. "Now. The Revel works like this. After the dinner is over, witches and wizards go to separate lounges for dessert and after-dinner drinks. While that's going on, those who don't want to attend the Revel, or aren't invited, either leave or are quietly escorted out. At 10:30, a bell rings, and everyone who's staying goes to a special room. I'll find ye and take ye there," he said, at my confused look.

"Can I please sit up?" I interjected. "You're kind of heavy," I added.

"You didn't say that last night or this morning," he said.

"We weren't on a hay bale then, either," I said. He laughed and helped me up and released me from the harness. "But I'll expect you to stay put," he said, swatting my bottom. I moved back to the chair. He rolled over on the hay and stared up at the ceiling. "In the room, the wives and consorts of the Death Eaters," and at this I gave out a small, disgruntled noise—sort of a cross between a groan and a growl. I had suddenly remembered Erik's comment about my over-full dance card.

"What?" he said. "What did I say? I _have_ asked ye to marry me. I dinna think of ye as just me _consort_, if that's what's botherin' ye!"

I wasn't going to tell him that I really didn't want to be either one…not that I had much of a choice at this point. "Sorry, never mind. Go on, please," and I waved my hand at him.

He cleared his throat. "At any rate. The wives and consorts are given envelopes, containing a list of names and a list of times," he said.

"You mean I actually DO get a dance card?" I said, instantly figuring out where this conversation was going.

"Dance card?" he said.

"Never mind. You're saying that, as a result of my, er, _status_," I said, trying to not think about exactly what that status was—wife AND consort, technically, I supposed, "I get to choose my partners for the night?"

"Aye," he said. "And as I asked this morning, will ye choose Lucius and me? I'm nae permitted to ask who ye choose when we're there tonight. I've had an arrangement with Mrs. Avery for years, though, so I'll have to speak to her and explain."

"Arrangement?" I said. "And what happens if there's a-er-schedule conflict? Don't you think that Lucius will be a bit busy?"

"Well, the schedule is arranged to accommodate the women's requests as much as possible," he began. "And you can pick several different times. You'll see. And Avery is a disgusting and foul brute who none of the wives and consorts ever choose, so he always brings along the youngest female Muggles he can find," said Walden, with a scowl. "For the last few years, when Isobel didn't attend with me, Mrs. Avery and I would play chess together for most of the night," and he chuckled, then he suddenly got serious and added, in a low voice, "…and then I'd have to clean up after the sorry sod," and I jumped up and said, "Back in a minute!"

After I returned from my abrupt trip to the bathroom, I sat down and took a long drink of tea. It didn't help. I really hoped that he wasn't on the "cleanup crew" tonight.

"Are ye all right, lass?" Walden asked. Was he really that oblivious?

"Is that—that Avery guy going to be there tonight? And are there going to be Muggles there?" And would I be expected to, I dunno, bow down and kiss the Dark Lord's symbolic feet, or something? I would not think about this…I _could not_ think about this. I had someone else's welfare to consider now.

"I don't believe there will be any Muggles there tonight, actually. Avery, on the other hand, never misses a Revel. At midnight, you see, there's a sort of group event, called the Main Revel. Ye don't have to go, ye can stay in your room," he added quickly.

"You're saying there's an orgy? Did—did…..well, did…" I started. "Oh, forget it. So, I get a private room?" I asked. _Welcome to my bordello_, I thought. I wondered if the walls would feature red flocked wallpaper.

"Yes. It's not where we will be staying the night—it's a bit, well, smaller," he said. "Were you trying to ask before if I have been to the Main Revels, or if I saw Snape at them?"

"Both," I said. I might have sounded terse, but I appreciated the honesty and openness that characterized our relationship.

"Well, I don't have much of a taste for them these days, but I used to go when I was younger." He smiled. "And Snape was always there when I went."

Great. I could add that to the twenty-volume set of "_What Severus Hadn't Told Me_," soon to be in its second printing. "Should we head back to the house?" I had no idea what time it was.

"I was going to show ye the horses, but that can wait. I usually try to take a bit of a nap before these events," he said. "Care to join me?"

At 6:30, I was bathed and dressed. I had used my wand to set my hair, a practice that I didn't engage in often. I sat on the bed in my Cabot's finery, swinging my bare feet back and forth. I had been so preoccupied with other matters that I hadn't bought dress shoes to match the robe. I was planning to Transfigure some Doc Martens. I twisted Walden's bracelet back and forth on my wrist, and then checked to see if the clasp on the necklace that I had gotten from Lucius had moved around to the front. It hadn't—and it figured. I was wearing a pair of green amber earrings to match. I was not wearing my handfasting ring or the Snape necklace, but I had them stashed away in my evening bag, just in case I had to give them back or something.

Walden came out of the bathroom. We had taken separate baths so that we wouldn't get distracted. He wasn't wearing a towel. "That's not stopping me from getting distracted," I said to him.

"Sorry, lass. Lost track of time," he said, throwing open his wardrobe. He withdrew a dark green dress robe and a sort of cape-like tartan vest to cover it and sat them on the bed beside me, then donned a pair of black boxer shorts.

"So, is that your family's tartan, or whatever it's called?" I asked, picking up my wand and a Doc Marten. Hmmm. Decisions, decisions. I remembered my leather jacket and the flyer I had seen, and suddenly I knew what shoes I needed to complete my outfit. With a wave of my wand, my Doc Martens became a pair of high-heeled skull buckle boots with pointy toes, ca. 1980s punk-rock vintage. **

"Aye, it is—" he paused, and considered my shoes, and smiled. "Interesting boots," he said, as he pulled his own tall black boots out of the wardrobe. I winked at him and said "Thanks," as I lifted my robe and fastened my garter belt on. I figured "why not," and fastened a pair of black fishnet stockings with seams to them. Walden leered at me. "On second thought, lass, let's nae bother with this damn party," he growled.

"And miss all the excitement?" I said. "Surely not." Despite my flip reply, my stomach churned at the thought of the event. After we were dressed, we went downstairs and had a brandy in the living room while waiting for the Ministry car. I didn't really care for the taste of the drink but I swilled it down, anyway, feeling guilty as I did so.

The car arrived promptly at 7 pm. A house-elf preceded us out and opened its door for us. The car was large and green and looked sort of like a vintage Rolls-Royce, or maybe a Bentley, but was neither. It had small flags flying on the front. The interior was huge. We were the first ones in the car, but Walden steered us to seats near the middle. Just after we had taken our seats, a chime sounded, and with a barely-audible "pop," the car appeared in front of another house, this one large and ostentatious and somewhere in the country. A formidable-looking wizard with long wavy hair stepped into the car, was introduced to me as Mr. Thicknesse, and I was introduced to him as "Madam Rowan Hawthorne of Salem, Massachusetts." Walden, after explaining to me that he and Thicknesse worked together at the Ministry, spoke to him quietly as the car departed for its next destination. I stared through the window. The third stop was in front of a house even larger than the second one, and an older man, dressed in pinstriped robes, was ushered into the very nicest seat at the back of the car. I tried not to let my jaw drop too much as I was introduced to Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

Nobody made any more conversation after the chime sounded, which was just fine with me. When I looked through the window, I saw that we had landed at the very grandest house yet—a veritable confection of grey stone that reminded me a lot of a building I had seen in Washington, DC years ago. There was still room in the car for more passengers, but when the doors were opened and Walden stepped out and assisted me, I knew that we had to be at Malfoy Manor. Walden held my arm, and we hung back to let the others ascend the wide stone steps to the double doors before us.

There were two large, young wizards wearing outfits that reminded me of pictures of medieval squires, or maybe it was footmen? I didn't know. They swung the doors open for us. After the two other couples had moved through the door, we stepped forward. Walden handed two parchment cards to an aged wizard, who looked like a composite of every single picture of an English butler that I had ever seen. He nodded once, and we moved forward through the entrance hall. Two house-elves retrieved our cloaks, and we stepped forward to an arched, open doorway. Another wizard tapped his wand on his throat and his magically-amplified voice said, "Laird Walden Macnair, Chief Executioner, Ministry of Magic, of London and Hogsmeade! Madam Rowan Hawthorne of Salem, Massachusetts!" And London and Hogsmeade, I added silently. I glanced around at the crowd. The event looked a lot like an opera opening in Boston, except that the men wore dress robes. Walden steered us through the crowd directly toward a house-elf who was holding a drinks tray. _Make mine a triple_, I thought, and then remembered that I probably shouldn't.

"I don't think a couple of drinks will hurt at this point," he said, retrieving two glasses of what looked like champagne, but was probably sparkling mead. "No, they won't," I said. We clinked glasses and I tasted mine—it was actually champagne. I looked around. We were in a huge reception area. About a hundred people filled the room. More were arriving and being announced each minute. There was seating, but most of it seemed to be occupied. House-elves, a veritable army of them, were scurrying through the crowd with trays of drinks and food. There were lots of marble tables with huge floral arrangements on them. The ceilings stretched up for what seemed like miles. Ancestral portraits were so thick on the walls that I wondered exactly how many Galleons one would need to maintain this sort of evident heritage. I made a note to ask Walden about that later. But I was going to ask him now about that "Laird" thing. I had just opened my mouth to do so when he began to speak.

"Oh damn," growled Walden, who was facing the doorway. "I was rather hoping—"

"Professor Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House, Hogwarts School!" came the announcement. Yeah. I was rather hoping, too. There stood Severus, with his trademark sneer, in some dress robes that I recognized as the ones he had worn to our handfasting. The Snape necklace glimmered around his neck. I turned back around before he could catch sight of me—we were rather far back in the crowd. "Damn ye, Lucius!" Walden was growling again, this time sounding even angrier. I was about to tell him that there was really no point in going on about it, as Severus was there and we couldn't exactly leave five minutes into the event, when I heard the announcement: "Madam Isobel Macnair of London and Edinburgh!"

Whatever anyone else might say about Lucius Malfoy, he certainly didn't throw boring parties.

* * *

NOTES:

I borrowed the idea of Macnair's middle name being "Allister" out of a fanfic, and I don't remember which one, and haven't been able to locate it since 2002. Thanks, oh author, whoever you are! (If it's anyone who is reading this, please let me know!) Of course, I also meant it to be an oblique reference to Aleister Crowley, who owned a house in Scotland at one time. And "Evan" is, of course, a reference to Evan Rosier, a Death Eater that Mad-Eye Moody mentions in GOF.

The 'confection of grey stone' to which I refer is the Old Executive Office Building on Pennsylvania Avenue, which is next to the White House.


	21. Chapter 21 - Spring Cotillion, Part 2

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 21 – The Death Eaters' (Early) Spring Cotillion, Part 2  
**

"He's really outdone himself this time," continued Walden, in an angry voice. He drank down the rest of his champagne and hailed a house-elf. He bent down and muttered something to the creature, which handed him a glass of champagne and then went scampering away. "I asked the elf to bring me a bottle of Lucius' finest single-malt. Merlin knows I deserve it at this point," he said.

Just at that moment, I heard a murmuring in the crowd around us, and Lucius came sweeping up to us. "Well, well. Good evening, Walden. I'm very pleased to see you, as always. And Madam Hawthorne—may I call you Rowan?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"You may," I said, as he kissed my hand. _Like he hadn't moaned it in my ear countless times in the throes of ecstasy_, I thought. _It would be just like him to forget it_. "Charmed," he said, and moved forward for a polite hug. As he did, he whispered in my ear, "You're wearing my necklace, Moonchild. Thank you."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. May I call you Lucius?" I said, withdrawing myself from the hug, attempting not to smirk.

"But of course," and he gave a short bow to both of us. "I shall see you at dinner, and later, I trust?"

"I certainly don't, Lucius," began Walden. "But, aye, ye shall see us." We stood in silence and watched as he swept away to the next unlucky victims.

"Nice going," I said. "Aye, he's going to have ta answer to me later. It could have been his wife who did it, though," he mused. "We've never gotten along." I could see that I was going to need a scorecard to keep track of things, in addition to my dance card. The house-elf returned with the bottle of whiskey and plied us with a tray of small hors d'oeuvres. Walden took a heaping plateful and sent the elf back for more. I was suddenly hungry and had just taken a bite of something involving shrimp when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and so did Walden.

"Snape," said Walden. He didn't need to say any more. I pitied the pulverized shrimp thingy in his hand. He had definitely executed it. I snatched the bottle of whiskey out of his hand for safety's sake.

"Macnair," said Severus. He had a glass of champagne in his hand, which I also pitied, as it looked like he was about to crush it to smithereens in his hands as if it were a recalcitrant potions ingredient.

_Oh, SCREW THIS_, I thought. Although I knew that the situation was entirely my fault, I hated confrontations. "Um, excuse me, but I really need to use the ladies' room," I said, and started to walk—well, no, I should be honest—run away. I didn't know where the ladies' room was, of course, but I was going to worry about that detail later…and I might even learn to love whiskey while in there. Just as I took my first few steps, though, I nearly ran into a very sour-faced woman with long black hair piled on top of her head in a complicated, Celtic-looking braided arrangement. She was wearing a tartan dress robe (which didn't fit well, as she was quite dumpy) and an expensive-looking necklace, shaped like a thistle. She didn't look happy. _Three guesses whom this might be_, I thought.

"Walden, what is the meaning of this?" she asked, in a horrible, screeching tone, suitable for a nightmare or a Muggle cartoon witch. I was beginning to appreciate Walden's career choice. The only thing that would improve this arrangement, I thought, would be the arrival of—

"Lucius," said Severus. _Well, this is just ducky_, I thought. _Why don't we pull out the Twister board so everyone can get more acquainted?_

"Lucius," screeched Mrs. Macnair (who apparently had only two voices, loud screech and louder screech), "What is going on here? Who is this woman," she asked, gesturing at me. _Who am I, indeed_, I thought. _Why the hell haven't you changed your name?_

"Mrs. Macnair," said Severus, drawing the words out over every possible syllable, and giving me a look that I couldn't interpret, even as he bowed in her direction. "How very LOVELY to see you," he added.

Lucius had an ear-to-ear evil grin on his face. I wished I had brought a camera, as I knew I'd never be able to describe it, or the look in his eyes. I knew then that he had been the one to engineer this particular social situation. He looked at me, raised his eyebrows ever-so-slightly, and we shared a brief moment of commiseration.

"Isobel," and Lucius bowed and kissed Mrs. Macnair's hand. "It's been too long. Charmed, as always. And Severus, good evening. I'm glad you are all getting along so well," he began. "As you'll be sitting together at dinner, which will be starting in about fifteen minutes. Must dash," and he walked off.

_The hell I will_, I thought. _I'm going to ask to sit at the kids' table. I could hang out with Lucius' son and we could discuss Memory Charms, or something._ I started backing away slowly from the group. Walden and Severus were still glaring daggers at each other, and then Walden sat his plate of food down on a table and turned to his ex-wife.

"Isobel," said Walden, in an extremely cold voice, the one that he likely used on the hapless creatures he encountered while on the job. "What are you doing here? Your opinion of the Revels, and those who attended them, has always been rather low. And I feel certain that in the last dealing we had with the solicitor, we did not share a last name."

This was like a killer Muggle tennis match, I thought. Severus and I both turned our heads to look at Mrs. Isobel Maiden-Name.

"Walden, dear, I don't know how they could have made such a mistake," and she fluttered her eyelashes at him. _Gross_, I thought. _I didn't know jowly vultures had eyelashes_.

"Well, it hardly matters, anyway, Isobel, as this is my fiancée, Rowan Hawthorne, who is also soon to be the mother of my son," and as he said it, Walden grabbed my arm and pulled me over toward him. I guess I wasn't going to be able to sneak away. I held on to the bottle of whiskey, though, sure that I was going to need it eventually. _He was really going to have to stop with this fiancée stuff,_ I thought…_and geez, not a birth announcement, too._

"WHAT!" exclaimed Severus. He didn't do so that loudly, but people were beginning to turn around and stare nonetheless. "Macnair, I challenge you to a duel!"

"With pleasure, Snape!" growled Walden. A large, rather stupid-looking wizard (who, I was sure, was either Crabbe or Goyle, although I wasn't sure which one) immediately stepped up next to him. "I'll be your second, Walden," he said. What, were we the floor show? _Lucius really should consider a string quartet for his next party_, I thought.

"Um, I don't think you're supposed to be dueling in the middle of a cocktail party," I said, weakly. Nobody listened to me, of course. I reached down and grabbed a new drink off the tray of a passing house-elf and drained it in a gulp, returning it to the confused-looking creature.

"I'll be your second, Snape," said a small, greasy-looking wizard who had sidled up at some point. A large, tired-looking witch trailed along behind him. I didn't recognize either of them, but I had the feeling that they might be Mr. and Mrs. Avery.

Both Mrs. Former Macnair and I were looking around, presumably for Lucius. I spotted him first and waved, with the hand holding the whisky bottle. He practically Apparated on top of us-perhaps to warn me about my lack of breeding.

"Walden, Severus, whatever are you two up to now?" he asked.

"Lucius, Macnair has outraged me and I demand satisfaction!" said Severus. _Yeah, stand and deliver_, I thought. _My former career of retail management in Massachusetts had never been as appealing as it was at just that moment. Come to think of it, even that midnight orgy was starting to sound good._

"Walden?" said Lucius.

"The lady has chosen me. Snape needs to crawl back to his dungeons and find a student on whom to lavish his abundant fanged affections," said Walden. Avery leered, as if this sounded like a grand idea to him. "But if he doesn't leave, I'll gladly duel him." Goyle, or Crabbe, said, "And I'll be his second."

"There'll be no dueling before dinner," said Lucius. A gong sounded, and not a moment too soon. "I believe I'm going to have to rearrange your seating," he said, offering an arm to both Mrs. Former Macnair and I. "I'll trust you to _not_ start your duel while I escort the ladies to dinner," he said, sharply. _Did that mean there would be a duel before dessert?_ I wondered. We walked toward a large side door. I heard mutters behind us; several people (including Severus, Walden, and their "seconds") had obviously decided to follow us.

In the dining room, which was larger than the Hogwarts Great Hall, a host of round tables and one long table covered with white tablecloths were arranged. Lucius, after consulting with a harried-looking butler, placed Walden and me together at one table with Goyle (or whichever one he was, and his wife, who wasn't much better-looking than him). The Averys were seated at another table, Severus was seated alone at another (which was close enough to ours that I could see him fuming), and Mrs. Ex-Macnair was seated at yet another table, very near the door, as if to give her a subtle hint. Mr. Thicknesse was also at our table. As the rest of the dinner guests were seated, I handed Walden the bottle of whiskey.

"Och, lass," he said, taking my hand and kissing it. "I love ye."

"You're welcome," I said, with a smile. "You're not _really_ going to duel him, are you?"

"If he presses the issue, I certainly will. Would ye excuse me for a moment?" he said, standing up and walking toward the long table, where I noted Lucius sitting with his wife, Minister Fudge and his wife, and some other people who I didn't know. I saw him speak to Lucius briefly and then he returned.

"Do I have a minute to run to the-" I paused, and he nodded and waved over a house-elf. I followed the creature out a side door. Just as I had reached the door of the powder room, I heard footsteps behind me.

"Rowan." It was Severus. I turned around.

"Severus, you probably shouldn't have followed me here."

"I know about the curses and the Memory Charms," he began. "Rhiannon wrote a letter to Albus."

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't write back to you right away. There was a strike," I said.

He came up and held my hands in his. "Rowan, I care about you deeply. I love you and I want you to come back to me," he said. "I don't care what's happened in the past. You accepted me just as I was."

"I can't, Severus. I—well, I think it's impossible for us to be together right now. Look. I'm going to give you back the house, and I'm going to buy the store from you. I'll send the information through Albus." I reached into my evening bag. "Here is my handfasting ring, the pendant, and the tag. I release you of all obligations to me. And you'd better stay away from me," I said. "Walden's threatened to kill you."

"Has he—is he—is what Macnair said true?" said Severus, in a voice that quavered, but only a little. He took the packet of jewelry and looked down at it as if it were on fire.

"About what?" I said, glancing around quickly; the hall was empty, but I was concerned. "Look, I really _do_ need to go in here right now, do you mind?" Severus waited outside while I went into the powder room. When I came out, the hall was still empty. "You'd better leave soon. He'll notice you've gone."

"Is it true, Rowan?" he said, looking down at his boots.

"Yes. It's all true…well, we aren't officially engaged yet, but he has asked me. So, is it true what I heard about your…well…your house and all that?"

He didn't look up. I saw his shoulders shake. "That was—that was a mistake. I was…I wanted to…well, I wanted to impress you, and I apologise," he said. "Regardless of all that, though…you can't marry him. He's—you just can't, Rowan. You don't know what you're doing. He's—he's still _loyal_. Do you understand? I know that I have made many mistakes in the past, but I also know that Macnair is not a good man. He'll never change, never. And you're having his child?"

"That was _not_ planned, believe me," I said. I had a million other things to say to him, and no time to say them.

"Let me give you a—a potion, one that's not traceable," he said, his voice sounding weak. "I can do that much for you."

I heard footsteps. I looked up and saw it was just a house-elf, but I was paranoid. "You HAVE to GO! Just go! And if—well, if you ever need to find me, and you can't—" I paused for a moment, considering. "Ask Rhiannon about the Viking. She'll know. Now GO, Severus. Please!"

"May I come to the store and see you?" he said, looking at his boots.

"Only if you are extremely careful," I replied. I heard more footsteps and looked up. It was Walden. I had to think fast.

"Shit! Give me back the jewelry," I muttered under my breath. "And play along." Severus nodded slightly and the packet appeared in my hand. "_This is the only way, Severus_," I thought to him. _"I told you-he's threatened to kill you!"_

"_I've seen him kill people more than once. He is a brute, Rowan! We shall discuss this later,_" thought Severus. I heard it quite loudly and realized that it must have something to do with the pendant. I fingered the packet in my hand nervously as Walden came barreling down the hall, wand in hand.

"SNAPE!" yelled Walden. "GET AWAY FROM HER THIS INSTANT!"

I stood in between them. "Please put the wand down, Walden, I have something to say, and it's just as well that both of you are here." I hoped that someone would listen to me this time. Instead, Severus drew his wand. Oh geez.

"I SAID, PUT YOUR GODDAMN WANDS DOWN!" I yelled. So far, pregnancy reminded me a lot of a bad bout of PMS. Both wizards, shocked by my outburst, lowered their wands. "Severus, of my free will, I now release you from the bonds of handfasting. May you, um, live long and prosper." _OK, so I borrowed a few words from a Muggle sci-fi series. So sue me_. I handed the packet of jewelry to Severus. "I now return to you the symbols of our union. Do with them what you will. Er, hail and farewell." I bit my lip, attempting not to cry. This, of course, was not the proper way to dissolve a handfasting—a ceremony was required. But hopefully, Walden would buy this—he _had_ said he wasn't religious. "OK, Severus, you need to repeat at least the first line to me." I said.

"I now release you from the bonds of handfasting," he muttered, looking at his boots and not at either of us. He didn't send me any thoughts. I saw him slip his wand into a side pocket of his robe.

"Is that truly all ye needed to do, lass?" asked Walden, as he stowed his wand away.

"Yep," I said, looking him straight in the eye. _Bring on the Sorting Hat, _I thought. _Go Snakes, Beat Lions. Too bad my Head of House will probably expel me the minute I start classes._

"Then will ye do me the honour of becoming my wife?" he asked, reaching in his robe pocket. I should have known. He brought out the ring box, and held it open to me.

I could feel the energy emanating from Severus, although I couldn't hear his thoughts. I was sure that he had blocked them. Why wasn't he just walking away? _Please go away, Severus_, I thought. _You don't have to see this part._ I wasn't sure if I wanted to see this part.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

"Well, Macnair, you've won," said Severus. And he turned and walked down the hall toward the entryway without another word. We watched and eventually heard a door slam. I assumed we weren't going to see him at dinner.

"Rowan? Are ye planning to give me an answer?" asked Walden, who was still holding the box up in my direction.

"Yes, Walden," I said, after I was sure that we were alone in the hallway. He withdrew the ring and placed it on my left hand. It was a bit large, but magically shrunk to fit perfectly. As I did so, I heard, in my mind, an agonized moan. "_Rowan, please—you must __**not**__ go through with it!"_ I knew Severus had sent the thought. I sent one back to him. "_For the Goddess' sake, please be careful!"_ I looked at Walden. He was smiling and he pulled me close. "Lass, ye've made me very happy tonight," he murmured. "I'll keep ye satisfied at the Revel if ye choose me." I had actually been considering choosing Mrs. Avery and her chess set, but I decided not to say anything, and merely kissed him back.

I heard more footsteps approaching. _Perhaps I should have printed up tickets_, I thought. We both turned around to see their source. "Walden, I see you've found Rowan. Severus isn't in his seat," Lucius began.

"Never mind about that, Lucius," Walden interjected. "Rowan has consented to my proposal."

"How very marvelous! I hope you'll allow me to make an announcement at the end of dinner," Lucius responded.

"Of course, as I was hardly pleased with some of the _other_ announcements that have already been made this evening," Walden said. His tone was polite with an undercurrent of malice.

"I'm sure of that. I've already spoken to Narcissa about it. It was an unfortunate mistake, Walden, and it won't happen again," responded Lucius, passing the buck adroitly. "Now, shall we all return to dinner?"

And that was how I found myself between Lucius and Walden yet again, but this time fully clothed and being escorted into the dining room in front of a hundred well-heeled dinner guests, many of whom were staring at me.

Lucius was true to his word, an occurrence that was surely rare enough to make people take notice. His announcement was made just as everyone was finishing their dinner. Severus had left his seat, and I wondered if he'd gone home. Mrs. Former Macnair, on the other hand, was still in evidence; I watched her during the announcement as she turned bright red and pounded a fist on the table. Several of her table-mates were turning to her and asking her questions. I hoped she wasn't sticking around for the rest of the evening.

After the tables were cleared away, coffee and tea was served, and then a gong sounded. Walden turned to me. "Come, and I'll escort ye to the lounge." We proceeded there and he left me at the door, saying, "I'll see ye back here at 10:30, lass." I had been a bit anxious about this part of the evening—what if the wives and consorts were a catty bunch? The room wasn't that large and contained several chairs and tables and a few couches, a fireplace, and large windows with huge curtains covering them. House-elves were stationed throughout the room, serving drinks and desserts. I got an espresso and some kind of torte from one of them and sat down on an empty couch, hoping to be inconspicuous. The clock on the mantel read 9:45, so I knew I wouldn't have to be in here for long.

I had just finished my coffee and dessert when Mrs. Former Macnair walked in. She, flanked by two of her contemporaries, women about 10 years my senior, walked directly up to me. I was kind of impressed by her directness. "So," she said, staring at me. Boy, was I glad I had shopped at Cabot's. There was no way she could find anything about me tacky or worthy of derision (except maybe my boots, and I kept them hidden).

"So what?" I said, back to her. One of her flunkies stifled a smile. Wait—that was Mrs. Avery, wasn't it? I considered asking her to bring out her chess set.

"You're marrying Walden?" _My, she didn't dance around the issue at all, did she?_

"I had planned on it," I said. I certainly wasn't going to explain the whole story to her.

"You'll regret it for the rest of your life," she said. I stood up. I was shorter than her and she outweighed me by about 50 pounds. Even so, she looked like the most exercise she ever got was lifting a wand. "Is that so?" I said. "Didn't seem to me as if _you_ wanted him," I finished, and crossed my arms across my chest. I really didn't want to fight about this.

"I _don't _want him. That's what I meant," she said. Ah. You know, I was really getting tired of this Slytherin Intrigue ™. _What, like I didn't already know what he was capable of?_ I muttered a silent curse to anyone who had been responsible for me visiting Hogwarts in the first place, two years ago.

"Well, thanks for your advice," I said, flagging down a house-elf and retrieving another espresso. She still stood there, flanked by the two women. "Pardon me," I said, turning away. _What the hell was all that about? _I moved to another chair and the group didn't follow me. About five minutes later, the two butlers or footmen or whatever who had been guarding the entrance as the guests arrived walked into the room. One of them was carrying a cloak over his arm. They went up to Mrs. Former Macnair and escorted her out of the room. Did Lucius have the place bugged or something? A tall, blonde woman in a Grecian-looking dress robe, who looked familiar, came gliding over to me.

"I'm dreadfully sorry about that, Madam Hawthorne," she said.

"Er. Yes. Thank you, it was no trouble, really," I said. "Er…I apologize, but I'm afraid we haven't been introduced," I said, just at the moment that I realized whom she must be.

"Narcissa Malfoy," she said, extending a long, pale, white hand to me.

I shook her hand, feeling very foolish. I had no idea what to say to her. _Gee, thanks for letting me borrow your husband on Tuesdays and Thursdays—it was his idea, of course. And hey, where's Mrs. Parkinson, I heard you two were close_. "It's a pleasure to meet you," I said.

"Lucius said you'd be staying later, so if you have any questions about how things work, feel free to ask me," she finished, gliding away. "Thanks again," I said, weakly. _Yeah, could you give me the etiquette manual? Should I write thank-you notes after it's over?_ I thought. I decided to head for the ladies' room while I still had a chance—hopefully, I wouldn't encounter any more duels or marriage proposals along the way.

At 10:30, another gong sounded. Everyone in the room got up and proceeded toward the door. Outside the door, their husbands and companions greeted everyone, I among them. We proceeded down the hall. At the end of the hall, some of the group turned right. Walden and I, along with quite a number of people, turned left. Leave it to Lucius to imbue even the hallways with magical symbolism, I thought.

The hall ended abruptly, and we proceeded through an arched doorway and down a long stone staircase. Nobody was talking. The end of the staircase led into a large room, much like the lounge we had just left upstairs. However, the windows here were small and slitted, and I knew we were at least partially underground. Where else would we have gone except a dungeon? The room featured grey stone walls with attendant torches. The chairs and couches were black and red leather, and the tables looked like sacrificial altars or something. And, yes, above the huge fireplace, a Slytherin banner hung. _Was there some sort of class at Hogwarts, "Pureblood Wizard Decorating 101" or something_, I wondered, _that was responsible for all of these similar rooms?_ And the room was cold. Very cold. I began to shiver, even though I had just had two rather large espressos. Walden led me to a couch. We sat on one end and the Crabbes (or Goyles, I honestly couldn't tell) sat on the other. After everyone had been seated, Lucius stood by the fireplace and all eyes turned to him.

"Brother Knights, and honored wives, consorts and guests, welcome!" Everyone clapped politely. I glanced around. Lucius' wife was seated next to him on a throne-like chair. Seated near her was Mr. Thicknesse—and was that Minister Fudge? It couldn't be. Was he one of the guests, maybe? But I was less worried about him than I was about Severus, who apparently hadn't left, and was sitting in a chair by himself near the corner of the room. I looked at him and glanced away quickly.

Lucius was speaking again. He had a satyr's grin on his face. "Ladies, we'll now distribute your envelopes." Several house-elves appeared in the room with silver trays on which sat stacks of parchment envelopes.

Like the characters in another Muggle sci-fi series, I was getting a bad feeling about this.


	22. Chapter 22 – Spring Cotillion, Part 3

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 22 – The Death Eaters' (Early) Spring Cotillion, Part 3  
**

A house-elf walked up to me and handed me an envelope and a quill pen. The envelope was grey parchment and my name ("Madam Rowan Hawthorne") was written on it in elegant copperplate script. The pen was large and appeared to have a silver tip and an ink reservoir. Having seen similar pens in Diagon Alley shops, I knew their price—and the elf had a basket of about fifty of them…unbelievable.

Walden sat next to me quietly as I opened the envelope. Inside were three parchment pages – a sheet with a list of times on it with a number (11) at the top, a list of names, and a sheet of instructions. I perused the latter sheet briefly. Apparently, I was supposed to pick my partners for the night from the list of available names. I could choose as many as I liked, men or women, up to three at a time, and write them in at hour-long intervals. I looked at the first sheet. Each hour from 11 pm until 5 am was listed. Next to the midnight and 1 am time slots, I noted that I had a choice of the Main Revel or a partner, as I desired. All assignations were strictly anonymous—I would be known only by my number. Every effort would be made to ensure I'd get my choice of partners. After reading all this, I attempted not to laugh—what came out was a sort of choking cough. Both Walden and Goyle turned and asked if I needed assistance. A house-elf scurried over and brought me a glass of water.

After I composed myself, I looked around. All the women in the room were eyeing the men as if they were some sort of smorgasbord—which I suppose they were. I saw quite a few of them looking at Walden. I didn't look at Severus. Other than the fact that we were in a dungeon dressed in formal wear, the entire procedure was so sterile that it reminded me of when I'd signed up for college courses. Lucius tapped a crystal glass next to him with his wand. When everyone was silent, he spoke again.

"Everyone will now drink his or her potions, please," he began. A house-elf stopped by our couch and handed a ruby-colored goblet to Walden and an emerald-colored one to me. We drank them. Mine tasted a lot like grape soda. I felt slightly warm after downing it. Lucius spoke again after most of us had sat down our goblets. "Ladies, if you would now follow Narcissa to your rooms. Your lists will be collected in 10 minutes," he finished. Walden took my hand and kissed it. "I hope I'll see ye soon, lass," he said, quietly. I smiled and winked at him and followed the other women. We proceeded down a hallway. The doors were numbered, and as I saw the other women opening them I glanced around for number 11. As I started to open it, Narcissa Malfoy approached.

"Do you have any questions?" she asked.

"No, it, er, all seems rather clear to me," I replied. I was trying my best to recall dentist appointments, Muggle tax bills, stubbed toes, and other unpleasant occurrences so that I wouldn't break out into hysterical laughter. "Thank you," I added.

"You're very welcome. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. I do so appreciate how you've kept Lucius busy," she finished, with a smile. It was nice to know that he actually had been truthful about that.

"Not a problem," I said. "Are there facilities in the rooms?"

"Oh yes, you'll see. Have a good evening," she said, as she turned away, no doubt to a room that she and Mrs. Parkinson would share. I opened the door to Number 11 (or was I number 11?) and walked inside, closing it behind me. The room was small. The walls were grey. There was a large bed with a sort of table/cabinet arrangement next to it, on which a lamp, a small bell suspended from a hanger, and a clock sat. There was a comfortable-looking chair next to the cabinet. There was a picture on the wall—an anonymous-looking landscape, very suitable. Other than a side door, that was it for the room. I opened the side door and revealed a standard-sized wizard bathroom, large tub and all. Everything was spotlessly clean. I sat down on the bed-the coverlet was silk—and opened the bedside cabinet. Inside was a selection of liquors and wines, and several glasses. I pulled open the drawer above the cabinet. It had been magically expanded and contained all sorts of sexual accoutrements, many of which I didn't recognize.

Remembering that I only had 10 minutes, I pulled out my parchment before examining any more of the room. I decided that I did want to see the Main Revel out of curiosity's sake, so I circled the first hour of it. And then I chose Walden and Lucius for 11 and 3, and Walden for 4 and 5. At 1, I chose Severus, and at 2, I chose Severus and Lucius. I wrote all this down hastily, feeling very silly. I thought of a multiple-choice test from Muggle high school, and giggled. I was sure that I probably wouldn't get Lucius, as he was the host, after all. I had a brief, fleeting thought that maybe I should choose Minister Fudge just to see if he'd appear at my door, but before I could change my mind, I stuffed the list back into my envelope to wait.

While I did, I read over the instructions in more detail. The bell, apparently, would ring twice ten minutes before each hour was up, and then once each hour. Men had to leave each room at the top of the hour, even if they were scheduled for the next hour in the same room. Everything was anonymous, as I had noted before. No arguments, fights, or duels were permitted; violators would be escorted off the grounds immediately. The men did not have a choice of partners, except during the Main Revel. Attendance at the Main Revel was not required. If men were not chosen, they were free to stay in the Main Revel room and amuse themselves for the duration of the evening. I snickered at this. This whole evening had been surreal, but this was definitely the oddest situation in which I had ever found myself. Surely, the rules and regulations had not started out in such a codified form. The final paragraph stated that if I needed assistance, I could ring the bell by saying "Dionysus." _Clearly, that was Lucius' idea of humor_, I thought.

After I read all this, I realized that, despite the absurdity and over-choreography of the situation, that I was getting quite excited, and I figured that it must be a result of the potion.

The bell rang twice and there was a quiet knock at the door. I opened it to a house-elf, who took my envelope, snapped his fingers, and gave me an exact duplicate of it. He/she then scurried away. I walked over to the liquor cabinet and withdrew a bottle of mead and a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky, and two glasses. Lucius, if he happened to show, was on his own.

After I had enjoyed a solitary glass of mead, the bell rang, indicating that it was 11 pm. I stuffed my envelope in my robe pocket. Very shortly afterward, a loud knock sounded at the door. I stood up and opened it. Walden walked into the room, a large smile on his face. Lucius was behind him.

"I told Lucius that it had to be ye, lass!" said Walden. "Nobody ever chooses him for the first hour." He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. I heard Lucius close the door behind him.

"Why doesn't anyone choose you, Lucius?" I asked, as he pulled me away from Walden for an embrace.

"They usually figure they won't get me," he said, with a smirk. "Sweet Moonchild, I should have known you'd be the one to buck tradition. Will you be attending the Main Revel?" he asked, as he kissed my neck.

"Yes, for the first hour," I said, sighing into his embrace. I felt Walden pressing up against my back, sliding his large arms around me. I also felt his robe-covered hardness nudging against my back. "Good," murmured Lucius. "Let's not waste any more damn time," growled Walden, and he waved his wand and the three of us were instantly naked. I figured that the potion must have really affected him, as he normally didn't do that. "Sweet lass, I canna wait," Walden growled, and then turned me around, lifted me up, and impaled me on him. "Walden, put her down; I'm not in the mood for watching tonight," said Lucius. Walden moaned with pleasure as he gripped me tightly and lowered us to the bed and rolled us over so that we were facing each other. I felt Lucius' hands sliding over my back—he had gotten onto the bed behind me, and I figured he was going to join in without further ado. I was right.

It didn't seem like much time had passed, but I dimly heard the bell ring twice, just as we had begun to take a short rest. We were sated, at least for the moment.

"Must dash," said Lucius, jumping out of bed and waving his wand quickly to get dressed. "Walden, Rowan, I'll see you in there shortly," he said, as he exited the room. I got up and took a short rest break. When I returned, Walden was sitting up on the bed, wearing a long black robe, which I recognized.

"You wear—those to the Revels?" I asked, as he pulled a white, featureless mask out of the robe pocket. "I told you before that we did, lass," he said, with a smile. He didn't put the mask on, though. "You'll find a dressing gown behind the door there, you should probably wear that," he said. He stood up and walked into the bathroom. "Here," he said, tossing me the robe. It was long and green and silky.

When he came out, I was standing by the door with the robe on. "Shall we?" he said, extending an arm. He carried the mask in his other hand. Before we walked through the door, he turned to me. "If you don't want to stay, just get up and leave and go back to your room. And I do hope I'll be seeing you later," he said. "If the fates allow," I answered. "I've got to stay in the room for the hour after the Main Revel, though—from 2 to 3," he said. "So don't be disappointed if I don't show then. It's a good time to take a bath," he added, with a smirk. I nodded. My suspicions had been confirmed. "Well, I'm only going to half the Revel," I said. "Excellent—I'll rest for the second half, then," he said, and we kissed briefly. Then he ushered me into the hall and we proceeded down the hall to a closed door. A line of cloaked wizards and witches in identical robes to mine stood there. The door was opened and we proceeded in.

The room was large and windowless. I saw what looked like a bar and some food in the far corner, doubtless for the benefit of the wizards who didn't get chosen. A variety of couches, beds, chairs, and chaise lounges were spread throughout the room in groups. I heard music coming from somewhere—a light melody with a lot of pounding percussion that wouldn't have sounded out of place in a Muggle club. There were tables with floral arrangements, which looked somewhat incongruous when one noticed the bondage equipment that lined the walls. Several couples, triads, foursomes and even one fivesome were already making use of the facilities. I took another goblet of potion from a house-elf just inside the door. I was also handed a small black half-mask. Noting that most of the women had already donned theirs, I put it on. I turned to Walden, who was downing his goblet and started a bit—he was wearing his mask. In fact, I noted, as I looked hurriedly around, most of the men were wearing them. I saw only a few maskless participants, and they looked scared. Wide-eyed, they were staring around the room, and I saw one of them flinch as a masked wizard raised his wand and floated a bottle toward himself. These had to be Muggles. And then I spotted the huge fireplace, and the banner that hung above it.

It was not a Slytherin banner. It was the Dark Mark, in very large, very lurid form…not all that different from the cover of the book I'd shown Inanna back in Salem, in fact. And I suddenly realized that I really didn't want to be here at all.

Then Lucius spoke. "Let the Revel begin!" And I didn't have time to protest as Walden pulled me onto one of the couches, where another man very quickly joined us. After we had arranged ourselves, I realized that it was Severus, but decided against saying anything, as I didn't want to interrupt Walden. I was enjoying what he was doing, despite not being able to figure out how he was able to do it through the mask. Some questions were best not answered, I thought, and continued my own work.

When the bell rang twice, I was hanging from a St. Andrews' cross, with not much memory of how I had gotten there. "Er, I've got to go, um, I mean, Laird, could you let me down, please," I said to Walden, who had been flogging me enthusiastically. I seemed to remember that he had also taken me from behind while I was up there, as well.

"Very well, lass," he said. "We'll have to get back to that later. I didn't know ye enjoyed such things." Just then, I heard some screams. I looked over in their direction and saw several masked wizards surrounding one very scared Muggle female. My heart sank as I realized that I had been grievously misled. "I do, but—oh damn, I've, uh, got to use the ladies'," I said. "See you at 3," I whispered to him, as he moved behind me to release my bonds. I felt his hardness brush against me and shivered a bit. He kissed me quickly and muttered, "I'm going to go get some food." I grabbed the green dressing gown from the floor, shoved it on, and ran through the door without looking behind me. I breathed a silent prayer that Walden was not going to be waylaid by any of the remaining Main Revel events.

Back in the relatively comforting space of Room Number 11, I stripped off the green gown and hung it on the back of the bathroom door, feeling as if I should burn it. Then, I started running a bath. Severus was going to get in there with me whether he wanted to or not—I wasn't even above casting the Imperius Curse on him. I figured I was safe from any Ministry edicts, seeing as the Minister happened to be down the hall enjoying the Main Revel- he had been receiving a whipping from two masked witches, one of whom looked suspiciously like Narcissa Malfoy, when last I saw him.

The bell rang once, and then a light knock sounded at the door. I opened it to a masked wizard, who I admitted. We looked at each other for a moment. I hoped it was Severus. He took off his mask and I sighed with relief.

"Rowan!" he exclaimed, as I embraced him. "Oh Severus," I said. "I'm so glad you showed up—I thought you left. I was surprised to see your name on the list."

"I cannot abide seeing you with that brute. I feel as if it is my fault that you are with him. I had to stay, to protect you," he murmured, as he stroked my hair.

"It's not your fault, Severus," I whispered. "Please don't jeopardize your life for me."

"I swore to you that I always would," he responded. "And I have not lived up to my promise."

"You lived up to it and more, both that night and afterward," I said, withdrawing from his embrace and leading him into the bathroom. "Let's go in here for now. We can discuss that some other time." The tub had filled with steamy, bubbling, scented water. Severus held my hand and helped me in. "This reminds me of our first weekend together," he said, as he disrobed and joined me. The months that we had spent apart had not been kind to him, I saw. He looked thinner, drawn and pale; there were dark circles beneath his eyes. And his hair was not the least bit clean. I pulled Severus back so that his body was cradled between my legs. Then I reached for a bottle of soap that sat next to the tub and poured some out into my hands and massaged it into his hair. He groaned at my touch.

"That feels so good," he sighed, as I continued to rub my fingers in concentric circles over his scalp. I felt him relax in my arms, and I held him for a few minutes after I was done. Then, he bowed his head forward to wash off the soap. When he emerged, he turned to me, black eyes flashing. "Severus," I said, "You understood what I said in the hallway, correct?"

"I did," he began.

"And we'll discuss it later?" I said. The walls most likely had ears in this place.

"Yes. I'll do what I said," he answered. "We shouldn't waste any more of our time, though," he growled, and reached for me. Within minutes, I was impaled on him and writhing on his lap. The potion that all of us had taken was one of the strongest I had ever experienced. I think there must have been other effects other than aphrodisiac, though, as time and reality seemed to move both faster and slower that night. By the time we exited the bath, I had experienced too many orgasms to count and Severus had come twice.

I checked the clock—it was 1:45. I felt completely alert and awake—obviously the potion had no soporific effects while one was not engaged, as it were. I walked over to the cabinet and withdrew a bottle of mead and two glasses. I poured out two measures and we drank them in silence. "You should probably leave. I don't think anyone should see you near my room." I said, sadly. No need to state who "anyone" was.

"Lucius and that, that—sodding brute," and he stopped, at a look from me. "Very well. Lucius and Macnair are still at the Main Revel," said Severus, setting his glass down on the cabinet. "You _did_ notice that there were some Muggles present?"

"I did. I was told there wouldn't be any here tonight," I responded, wrapping the towel closer around me.

"And you believed—whoever told you?" Severus replied, with a smirk. "I suppose THEY also told you that I had been lying to you all along, simply because I didn't give you every detail of my past life?" he said, looking at the floor.

"I didn't want _every_ detail," I said, "but it would have been nice to hear some of the more significant things from you first," I said. "You know. Like the stuff about that house, and your family, maybe?"

"I have revealed more to you than I have ever revealed to anyone, save Albus. It is not in my nature to be that forthcoming, Rowan," Severus said, in a forbidding voice.

"And it sure as shit isn't in my nature to put up with all of this double-dealing, half-assed lying, backstabbing Slytherin _crap_," I said, perhaps a bit more harshly than I had intended. "But nevertheless, it's consumed my life for the last two years." I paused. "And what was all that about lavishing affections on students, anyway?" I added, suddenly remembering one of the conversations from earlier.

"I have never, and will never, pursue any sort of romantic relationship with any student," he said, looking directly at me. "Unless you refer to the time when I myself was a student," he added, with a thin-lipped glare.

"That's not what I mean, and that's not what Wal-, what was meant," I added. "And you know it." This conversation wasn't going at all the way I had hoped or planned. The bell rang twice. "I'm not staying for the next hour," Severus said. "I'm going back to the school."

"Just as well. I'll talk to you later," I added, not feeling as if anything was truly resolved. Severus waved his wand to cloak and mask himself, and then swept out the door without another word.

"SHIT!" I yelled, whipping the towel from around my waist and throwing it onto the floor. I wondered if somehow, Lucius' curse had flared up again, while I was a guest at his manor. I padded over to my dress robe, which hung on a hook behind the door. In its pocket, I found the bottle of Imperius-resisting potion, which I had been taking several times a day. I took a swallow from it. Despite my regular draughts of the stuff, I still loved Walden. And it certainly hadn't helped things with Lucius this evening, either. I walked over and picked up the towel and put it back in the bathroom. Then I redonned the green robe and sat down on the bed and poured myself another glass of mead.

Just as I started to drink it, the bell rang. Several minutes later, there was a knock on the door. My, he was prompt, I thought. I opened the door and sure enough, there stood Lucius, maskless, but still dressed in the black hooded robe. "May I come in, Moonchild?" he asked. I remembered the old Muggle legends about how one had to invite a vampire into one's home, and remembered that the entire place was Lucius' home, so that legend probably didn't apply here.

"Of course," I said, stepping aside.

"Walden is occupied with some pressing matters for the next hour—not anything that should concern you, nothing having to do with any other women," he interjected, before I had the chance to say anything…especially since I hadn't chosen Walden for 2 am in the first place. "He asked me to send his regrets and said he'd get here as soon as he could."

"It would hardly be sporting for me to worry about him being with other women tonight, Lucius," I said, sitting back down on the bed. I was, however, concerned about what he _was_ actually doing, and hoping against hope that it had nothing to do with the Muggles. I was also sure that was a vain hope.

"I've had to revise my opinion, as I said—I think you two are well suited," he began, sitting next to me on the bed and pulling me into his arms. "Mmm," he sighed, as we kissed. "He's much better for you than Severus. And by the way, don't worry," he said. "I won't say a word about Severus being here with you. He's already left for the evening," he finished.

"That's just as well," I murmured.

"Now let's not talk any more," he said, as he rolled over on top of me.


	23. Chapter 23 - Spring Cotillion Conclusion

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 23 – The Death Eaters' (Early) Spring Cotillion, Conclusion and Aftermath  
**

After several rounds of sex that I can only describe as athletic, Lucius and I decided that it was time for a rest. We had just begun to doze off—I had no idea what the time was, and didn't care—when a knock sounded at the door. Lucius reached over to the bedside table, retrieved his wand, and waved it in the door's general direction. Within its frame, the door shimmered and dissolved, to reveal Walden. He looked tired and was hunched over.

"Come in, Walden," said Lucius, and sat down his wand.

"I need a bath," sighed Walden, as he walked heavily into the room, shut the door behind him, and tossed his mask onto the bedside table. "And a drink…and a proper bed." He sat down at the end of the bed, right next to my blanket-covered feet. His robe was disheveled and he looked as if he had been exerting himself. "Lucius, would it be too much to ask to move this celebration to our guest room?" Then he turned to me. "Unless you've others on your agenda," and he winked.

"My agenda for the rest of the night is with you two," I said, yawning. And I didn't really care to ever see Room Number 11 again. Lucius reached over and took my hand. "Hold Walden's hand," he murmured, and I did, and with a POP! we were all in another, larger room, sitting on a much larger, four-postered canopy bed. The room was quite similar to the master bedroom at Walden's lodge (clearly, those aforementioned Pureblood decorators had struck again). I saw our overnight bag sitting next to a wardrobe.

Walden stood up and excused himself, and headed toward the en-suite bathroom. "Rowan, lass, come in here and join me in about five minutes, would you?" he added, just as he closed the door. I nodded and smiled at him. Lucius stood up after he left. "Sorry to leave you, but if you will excuse me, as well, I am afraid that I have some obligations downstairs. I shall be back later—as soon as I can." He waved his wand and a tray of drinks and food appeared on the bedside table. Just as I thought he was about to leave, he stepped back over to where I reclined on the bed and kissed me. "I love you, Moonchild," he whispered. Then he Disapparated.

I sat on the bed for a minute, listening to the water running in the bathroom, and looking idly toward the window, where the curtains were drawn. I had to admit I was stunned, but I quickly wrote off Lucius' declaration as the logical culmination of all his pretty words of the last few months. He hadn't exactly waited for my reply, either. And, I thought grimly, he wasn't getting one, either.

"Rowan?" Walden's muffled voice calling from the bathroom snapped me from those thoughts, which were both pleasant and unpleasant. I stood up, retrieved the tray of drinks and food, and pushed open the door. He was already in the large, round tub, his hair wet and his body slick with soap. I sat the tray down on the tub's rim and climbed in next to him.

"Och, me sweet lass," he groaned, as he pulled me close and kissed me. "I apologize for leaving ye alone for so long. I despise Avery—he's such a liar. I had no idea any Muggles would be here tonight," and he paused after this to dunk his head under the water. "Well, I made it as quick as I could for them," he sighed. "None of them had the slightest idea what was going on. Completely pointless…didna help our cause in the least. I doona know why Lucius puts up with him," he continued, reaching for the bottle of whiskey on the tray.

As he took a long draught, I pulled away from him and stared at him in horror. He didn't seem to notice my abrupt change in mood. "Quick? Oh Gods. You mean you—"I couldn't finish the sentence without screaming, so I paused, gulped for air, and tried again. "So, er, you cleaned up. After Avery."

"O' course, lass; didna Lucius tell ye? I asked him to." He took another drink. Oh, Lucius had told me a few things tonight, I thought. No wonder he didn't want to have any conversations with me while you were gone.

"Well, not exactly," I said, reaching for the bottle of mead. He had told me exactly as much as he figured I wanted to hear. And like a naïve little girl, I had just cruised right on down Denial with him. What a congenial host he was. I mean, what did I expect, exactly? Walden was, essentially, doing his job. I opened the bottle of mead, took a long swallow, and sat it back down on the tray. It was, of course, sheer perfection, like everything else at Lucius' house.

"And I also told Snape to keep his greasy hands away from ye in the future. I knew it was him joining in with us at the Main Revel," continued Walden, who had apparently satisfied his qualms—if indeed he had any—about disposing of the doomed Muggles. "Didn't know ye were into all of that whipping business, but I suppose I could have guessed, since you married that bastard, after all. I have to say I dinna mind indulging ye a bit, like we did tonight, but I usually prefer a good hard fuck, meself," he said, pulling me onto his lap.

I knew that I would never be able to fight him, and win. I also knew that he wouldn't even begin to understand anything I'd say about the plight of the Muggles. However, at that moment, I knew that I'd have to find a way to leave him—one that hopefully wouldn't result in Severus' death. I would have to be very careful from then on; I would have to use every bit of Slytherin cunning that I had learned over the past couple of years. And I'd also have to remember to drink the Imperius-resisting potion, although it certainly didn't seem to have made my attraction to Walden lessen, unfortunately…

"Well, my Laird," I said, "You're very good at both," and I arched into his touch as his hands slid down over my body. Despite my moral qualms—or maybe even because of them—a frisson of pleasure subsumed me. The aphrodisiacs were still doing their potent work. I felt Walden's huge erection pushing my thighs apart. He groaned. "Mmmm. Ride me, my lass," and he lifted me up and sat me down on it.

"Oh, yes, oh Gods, yes," I groaned, as he locked his arms around me and pushed me down on him as far as I would go. I couldn't think any more, all I could do was feel, and the sensations were incredible as I squirmed around him, increasing the delicious friction between us. As he moved faster and faster, the water churned around us and I spasmed around him, crying out his name and words of love—the words poured out of me seemingly without my consent, and I felt them as they were wrenched from my heart center. "Och, sweet lass," he cried. "Don't ever leave me." I wondered how he could have known what I was thinking, and I realized how deeply we were connected then, and it scared me. The feelings I had for him at that moment were contradictory, and the most intense I had ever had. "I love ye, lass," he groaned, and I felt the emotion pour out of him and connect with me, and there was a great burst of light in my heart center that made both of us cry out in surprise. Walden spoke to me in Gaelic then, and I didn't understand what he was saying, but he was practically sobbing, and his large hands spread me wide and I felt him convulse and shudder, once, twice, three times. The aftershocks coursed through me and through him, and we sighed in unison with each one. He didn't release me from his grip until both of us were completely recovered, and then he lifted me and sat me next to him in the tub and lay back, staring at the ceiling. I sat next to him and did the same thing. We held hands and idly caressed each other.

"I've never felt the like—I think I spent three times," he said, after a long while.

"It was unbelievable," I said. "What were you saying to me?"

"Och, just the same things I usually say to ye in bed," and he smirked.

"Not exactly, because I usually understand them," I responded, reaching for my bottle of mead and taking a quick drink. "Could you translate?"

"I didn't think "uhhhhhhhhhh" needed any translation," he said, laughing as he punctuated the sentence with a groan.

"It does when you say it in Gaelic," I said.

He continued to laugh. "I spoke to ye in Gaelic? That was me first language, ye know."

"I kind of figured it was," I answered. "This isn't the first time you've spoken in it while—you know, while we were in the midst of things," I said.

"That means I feel very comfortable with ye," he said, pulling me close so that my head was on his shoulder. The bath, oddly enough, was still warm. "I probably said that I love ye and I want you forever. And how much I like fucking ye," he added, with a leer. Then he stood up abruptly, stepped out of the bath, and reached out a hand to me. "And how I want to throw ye in that bed right now and plow your arse," he said. I couldn't believe it, and looked down. He was ready to go again. I must have looked surprised, because he just kept laughing. "I kept drinking that lust potion while I was away from ye, and I didn't take any other partners—didn't want to," he muttered. "Come on," he said, pulling me toward the bedroom. "Never mind about tha'," he said, as I reached for a towel. "We'll just get sweaty again." And we did.

* * *

The next morning, at sometime around 7:30 am or so, I stirred awake and crept off to the bathroom, and when I returned, Lucius was there, standing next to the bed. He was looking down with an odd expression at Walden, who lay uncovered, naked and sprawled over several pillows, softly snoring. As I watched, he Summoned a blanket and draped it over Walden's sleeping form. We had pushed all of the covers off the bed during the course of the evening.

"Sorry I wasn't able to get back in time," he whispered to me, as we walked away from the bed so as not to disturb Walden. "Well, you'll just have to make it up to us," I said, before I even realized what I was saying. "Oh, I fully intend to," he said, kissing me and then Disapparating. I got back into bed. Walden stirred, moaned, slipped an arm around my waist, and pulled me close, spoon-fashion.

We slept until well after noon. A bell softly chimed at 1 pm, and Walden woke me, indicating that the chime meant that a late brunch would be served in an hour for all those who had stayed overnight. We proceeded to the dining room and ate. There was not much conversation. I did glance over at Avery, who was avoiding Walden's gaze. At around 4 pm, the Ministry car returned and took us back to the lodge—we were its only passengers.

"I'll meet ye at your house in Hogsmeade tomorrow night after I finish work," said Walden, buttering a piece of bread, "And we'll move yer things here." We were enjoying a very late dinner—it was around 10 pm or so. I wasn't eating anything, but I was drinking tea. I didn't want anything alcoholic or mind-altering. I was considering permanent sobriety, in fact.

"I suppose," I said, looking out the kitchen window. There wasn't much to see out there; it was quite dark—the shadows from the barn obscured the sun even when it was daylight.

"Ye told him ye were giving him back the house, didn't ye, lass?" he asked.

"Yes." I decided I was hungry and reached for a piece of bread. Walden's hand intercepted mine before I could touch the food. He lifted my hand up and kissed it. "Lass, are you regretting that decision?" His words eerily echoed Severus', the morning after we had spent our first night together, two years before.

I was annoyed. I wanted to stand up and scream, _"That's it. That is just IT. Nobody had better ask me that question again, because the answer is, YES, I regret EVERYTHING. That includes coming to freaking Scotland in the first freaking place. I'm going to blow this pop stand and go back to Massachusetts, and if I so much as hear one goddamned bagpipe or see one fucking plaid shirt after I get there, I'll start kicking ass and taking names!" _

I didn't say any of that, however. "No, I was just thinking about things. You know—what we discussed before the Revel, while we were in the barn."

Walden smiled. "Aye, I've been thinking about that, myself. Have ye given any more thought to the names I mentioned?"

_Yeah, what were they again, _I mused_. Salazar? Voldemort? Lucifer?_ "Er…" I said, as I stared at the darkness again, only half listening. "What were they, again?"

"Evan, Gavin, or Lucius," he said.

"What! No way. No Latin names," I said.

"Lass, I was trying to see if ye were paying attention," he said, chuckling. "Ye seemed as if ye were miles away for a moment there. The third name was Allister, which is also my middle name."

"I actually sort of like Evan Allister," I said. _WHY was I even CONSIDERING this?_

"I was leaning that way myself. We have plenty of time to decide, of course," he said, yawning. "However, I'm afraid that I don't have much more time tonight—I have to be at the Ministry early tomorrow. Shall we head up to bed?"

* * *

"Rowan!" Morgaine looked up when the bell jingled and I walked into the shop. She had a huge smile on her face. "I'm so glad you've finally returned. The store's been doing so well—you're going to love it when you look at the books. And Ruthven's been developing all sorts of new products—he's been working with the Professor," she stopped, when she saw my expression. "Oh, I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have mentioned him," she finished.

"No, no, that's all right. He still has an interest in the store, after all—but, there are going to be some changes, and I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you about them," I began, waving my wand and bringing the chairs out from behind the counter. "Have a seat, this is going to take a while," and I gestured to one of the chairs. "Maybe we'd better have some tea," and I Summoned the teapot and some cups.

Just as we started to sit down, however, the bell over the door jingled and a wizard entered the store. He walked slowly toward us. Even in the wizarding world, this man stood out. He had long, graying hair, a battered face (it looked as if part of his nose was missing), and a wooden leg, which made a loud clunking noise with each of his steps. All of these characteristics paled, though, in comparison with one of his eyes, which was large and seemingly independent of the rest of his facial features. It twirled and swooped and didn't focus on any one thing. I almost felt as if I were under the scrutiny of a Muggle spy camera.

"Professor Moody!" exclaimed Morgaine, as she stood up to greet him. "Your order finally arrived! That Owl Relay Service strike affected all of our overseas orders, and we're still sorting it out. I want to apologize again for not being able to get your boomslang skin last month," she said, as she walked over behind the counter to the cabinet where we stored special orders. "But Ambrosius tells me," she continued, withdrawing a paper sack with a neatly printed tag reading 'Professor Alastor Moody' on it, "that he got a large stock of it in, so you won't have any more trouble with it, or any of your other regular ingredients."

I had followed both of them over to the counter, fascinated by the man's appearance. Unfortunately, he noticed me staring. "I'm—I'm sorry," I said. "I'm afraid I haven't met you, sir. I'm Rowan Hawthorne, proprietor of this establishment."

"Professor Alastor Moody. Pleased to meet you," he said, in a gruff tone, and then he smiled a bit at Morgaine. "Your assistant has been very helpful to me in recent months."

"Morgaine's the best," I said, clapping her on the back. She blushed. Maybe she liked this guy or something—I never inquired about her romantic life, figuring that I'd have to explain mine in turn, which would be too much trouble.

"Are you a Hogwarts professor?" I asked. His name seemed familiar, and I was sure that Severus had mentioned something about him, but I couldn't recall what. I supposed I was rather out of touch with things at the school this year, considering.

"Yes. Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said. "This year only." He took out his money pouch and counted a few Galleons to Morgaine, who was positively glowing. She handed him his change, and asked, "Were you able to get Professor Snape to help you with what you needed last month?" I flinched at the name and hoped that he didn't notice.

"Oh yes. He was indispensable," he said. "Thank you very much, ladies," and with a bow, he clunked his way out of the shop.

"I wonder why he'd need _that_ for his classes," I mused, watching his progress down the street. Morgaine was also watching him, but she had a goofy grin on her face. "I don't know, but I hope he comes back soon," she said, with a sigh. "He's so—fascinating. Such a hero," and she giggled.

"Hero?" I said, feeling less and less like a former History of Magic instructor every moment.

"Don't you know? He was the Auror who rounded up most of You-Know-Who's supporters back then," she said, still mooning after him.

"_That_ was Mad-Eye Moody?" I was certainly glad that Walden wasn't going to meet me here. He had told me a few stories about Auror Moody…if I recalled correctly, he'd been the one who killed Walden's friend, Evan Rosier. "He's teaching at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, he's doing it as a special favor to the Headmaster this year. Didn't you know?" She looked at me curiously. "Oh. I'm so sorry, Rowan," she said, correctly surmising exactly why I had no clue about what was going on at the school.

"Look, Morgaine…that brings me back to what we were beginning to discuss. Why don't we have a seat?"

Quirke and Quirke, Solicitors, had a small Hogsmeade office on a side street not far from the Apothecary. After I had finished my talk with Morgaine—which had ended in her giving me a rather tearful hug—I walked over there.

I got the impression that the Quirkes—a youngish witch and wizard, clearly a husband and wife team-were rather eager for my business. This was good, as I decided to have them handle everything—the transfer of the house back to Severus, and the transfer of the store to Morgaine.

In our conversation, Morgaine and I had worked out equitable arrangements for her to buy the store in installments, in much the same way that Inanna had bought my store in Salem. I explained to her that, while Severus and I were still speaking to each other, our formal relationship had come to an end. I also told her briefly about Walden, but I didn't mention his name. We decided that it would be best if I continued to visit the store several times a week during the transition period to make things smoother, and set up a schedule for that.

Also, although I had told Rhiannon in December that I was going to clean out the Hogsmeade house, I actually hadn't, and so my next task was to ensure the house was free of all my belongings. The solicitors had been tasked to handle the final cleanup arrangements.

I had been reluctant to spend any money on legal assistance, but after the short, unhappy conversation that Severus and I had had at the Revel just before he departed, I figured that I'd better be as businesslike as possible. Who knew how long it would be before we'd be able to speak again, after all? So, I used the remainder of the money that Walden had given me in Salem to pay the solicitors (he had been quite generous, so my bill was paid in full). All documentation would be owled to the lodge. After three hours of prolonged legal consultation, that was that.

_AT HOGWARTS, IN SEVERUS SNAPE'S OFFICE_

Severus stood up from his desk, threw a handful of Floo Powder into his fireplace, and spoke, "Headmaster, a word, if you please."

Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace and dusted off his crimson robes, a large smile on his face. "I'm afraid that I can't come up with any particularly original words today, my dear boy. With what do you need my assistance?"

"One of my Slytherins, Miss Avery," began Severus.

"The seventh year?" interjected the Headmaster.

"Correct. At any rate, she wants to discuss a matter of some urgency with me, concerning her father. And she does not wish to talk about it on school grounds; for fear that she might be seen or overheard by one of her classmates. Thus, I require your permission to escort her to my Hogsmeade house so that we might speak there. I would also like for Minerva to accompany me, but I'd prefer it if she did so in her Animagus form, to further preserve Miss Avery's privacy."

"Very well, Severus. Do you think that this concerns what we have been suspecting?"

"I am afraid so, Headmaster." Severus looked grim.

"Then you'd better go straightaway," and Dumbledore stepped toward his own fireplace to contact Professor McGonagall.


	24. Chapter 24 – A Case of Mistaken Identity

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

Don't forget to drop a review in the box by the door as you leave! Indulgences also available at a reasonable price—see the proprietress.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 24 – A Case of Mistaken Identity**

I stood in the upstairs bedroom at the Hogsmeade townhouse, surveying the room. The only item of furniture in it was a bed. Severus had conjured it for us the night we bought the house. When I looked at it now, I recalled not only the lonely nights that I had spent in it last fall, but I also remembered the nights that Lucius had visited. I muttered a charm and the bed—and its bedclothes, still rumpled from the morning that I had left for Massachusetts in December-disappeared. I certainly wasn't going to need it where I was going. There was a large rectangle, formed in dust, on the floor where the bed had been. In the middle of it sat an empty wine bottle. I walked over and picked it up. The label bore an unpronounceable French name, and it just looked expensive. I knew that it was a relic of one of the evenings with Lucius, so I made it disappear as well.

The other upstairs rooms were empty—I had taken everything out of the closet and bathroom cabinet prior to my trip.

I trudged down the stairs and walked into the sitting room. There, in front of the fireplace, were the couch, table, and chair that Severus had conjured, the night before I left for Massachusetts. The blankets with which he had covered me lay crumpled on the floor. An empty food tray sat on the table, and I remembered the feast he had made that night. I sat on the couch and began to cry. It was all, suddenly, just too much. There would be no more nights with Severus—no more reading together in companionable silence, no more shared feasts, no more impassioned midnight discussions. Of course, Walden and I were likely to share such nights, but it wasn't the same. I had no plans to spend the rest of my life with Walden. When, exactly, I was going to leave, I wasn't sure, but I was going to _have_ to leave, emotional bonding or no.

And I had made a decision to keep the child—I was not sure when I had made that decision, either. Somehow, though, I knew it was the correct one. I was certainly not a pro-life fanatic, but I simply couldn't bring myself to formulate the potion that every first-year Institute student was taught to brew. And it was not as if, I mused, between sniffs and choking sobs, that I was in such a bad position to have a child—I was fairly well-off, financially, for one, and would be so even if I were to convert my Galleons into pounds, or, more likely, dollars.

I picked up one of the blankets from the floor and hugged it, which prompted a fresh round of sobs—somehow, most likely because he had conjured it; the blanket bore the familiar smell of Severus. It was some sort of mix of sandalwood and other potions ingredients. I had always found it intoxicating. His scent changed daily, depending on what sort of concoctions he happened to be teaching his classes, but the sandalwood always remained, because he made his own soap and it was the main ingredient. And contrary to popular belief, he used said soap early, often, and daily—sometimes, even twice a day.

Oh Gods. I did have some lingering affection left for Severus, I knew, but I couldn't see how we'd ever get the chance to be together again. Even if we did, things would be different—I now knew his true past. Nor could I imagine that he'd even want to be together with me again, after all that had happened. And much of it had been my fault—if only Eric and I hadn't gotten in that fight in New York, if only I had performed the binding ritual a bit more assiduously, if only I had gone to Dumbledore and enlisted his aid before going to Massachusetts…if only, if only. Now there was no other choice but to pack up all my boxes and move them to Macnair Lodge. Then, I'd wait for a suitable opportunity to escape.

I reached in my robe and drank the last of the Imperius-resisting potion that I had gotten in New York. I had placed an order for more while speaking with Morgaine earlier today. I wiped my eyes a bit with the blanket. The potion actually made me feel better, if only for a minute. I wondered what was in it and considered having Severus analyze it—then I remembered everything again.

I had just sat down the blanket and decided that I'd better go and start shrinking down my boxes of belongings, which were stored in the magically-expanded front closet, when I heard a sound at the door. I glanced at my watch. It was 6:10. I had thought that Walden had murmured that things might run a bit late at the Ministry, and that he'd be here at 6:30 or 7 when he left this morning, but perhaps I had heard him wrong.

Then I heard the key turn in the lock. I was very sure that Walden didn't have a key to this house. Perhaps the solicitors were working late, or they had hired very prompt and efficient cleaners? Then I heard the voice.

It was Severus.

And then I heard another voice-a woman's voice. Maybe Morgaine, I thought, but no, it wasn't familiar. And she sounded rather upset. Severus was speaking to her in low, soothing tones. What in the hell was going on? I stood up and walked closer to the front hall, where the voices were coming from.

"I don't know what to do," said the woman. From my closer vantage point, I could tell that she was a teenager, at best. "I can't stand it any more," she continued, and her voice quavered. She was starting to cry. "How will I hide it? I feel as if everyone knows."

_What the hell was this all about? Hide what? Everyone knows—what? And why was this woman—no, girl—here with Severus? _

"I am certain we can find a way to keep your classmates unaware of the situation," Severus said. "And I am also quite certain you will find that more of them are sympathetic to you than you think."

_Classmates? This was a student? He had brought a student here?_ I thought of the comment Walden had made at the Revel. I knew, of course, that I could hardly cast aspersions on Severus for having another romantic interest, lest I seem hypocritical. However, it did seem rather tasteless of him to bring someone here for a romantic assignation. How long had this been going on?

There was silence from the room beyond and I could only conclude that he was kissing her or something. I supposed that having to listen to all this was a form of karmic retribution for subjecting Severus to the various conversations at the Revel. However, I noted cynically, _he certainly has moved on quickly, and he doesn't even have the excuse of an Imperius Curse or modified memories_.

I was suddenly very upset. _How dare he bring some schoolgirl here?_ And furthermore, I still owned the house! If he was going to do this sort of thing, couldn't he have done so in his chambers in the dungeons, as Walden had suggested? I stood up abruptly, opened the door, and walked into the entrance hall, not caring about my messy hair or tear-streaked face. Let the stupid bimbo think what she wanted—she was foolish enough for getting involved with a professor. Didn't Hogwarts have rules against that sort of thing? The Institute, in true Massachusetts fashion, certainly had.

"Severus, what on Earth is going on here?" I said. He and the girl—and she was indeed a Hogwarts student, and a Slytherin, I noted—were not kissing or even touching. They stood a decorous few feet apart. And in the corner of the hall, a striped cat, which looked familiar, was observing the entire scene. Worse yet, they were all standing right in front of the door to the closet, which contained all of the boxes that I had to shrink down for easy moving in approximately twenty minutes—possibly even less.

"Rowan!" said Severus. He was obviously very surprised to see me. I looked at the student, who seemed even more surprised to see me. I knew that most students expected their teachers to have empty, sexless lives outside of school. "What are you doing here?" he continued.

"As you may recall, I _do_ still own this house, Severus," I said. _Surely, the solicitors had not contacted him yet_. "Now if you both would please excuse me, I have some items I need to retrieve from the closet," and I gestured toward it. And then I said something that I instantly regretted, but I was still a bit annoyed, so it just sort of slipped out. "My intended is going to be here in less than half an hour to help me move."

"Macnair's coming _here_?" Severus said, and his anger was palpable. We were clearly still connected.

"You're Mr. Macnair's fiancée?" asked the student, who was obviously anything but shy. "My mother mentioned you in her owl today. Very pleased to meet you; I'm Cynthia Avery." And she shook my hand. I figured there wasn't any point in being impolite, and I smiled and nodded at her. "Rowan Hawthorne," I said, putting a lot of emphasis on my last name. I saw Severus frown and clench his fists slightly, out of the corner of my eye. The anger coming from him was increasing by the moment; if there had been any decorative objects in the house, they would have probably already shattered or fallen from the walls. Luckily, all such items were safely packed in the boxes. Unfortunately, everyone was still firmly parked in front of the closet door so I couldn't get to them.

"Miss Avery," Severus gestured for her to move toward the living room. "Would you please excuse us for a moment?" She obligingly walked into the living room. I wondered what she'd think of the lone sofa, the blankets, and the empty food tray, and decided I didn't care. The striped cat padded along behind her, tail held high.

As soon as the door had closed behind them, Severus stepped toward me. "WHY ARE YOU ALLOWING HIM IN THIS HOUSE!" he hissed, close to my ear. I stepped back.

"I don't have to listen to this," I began, in a low voice that I hoped wouldn't carry much. Severus whipped out his wand, waved it perfunctorily, and cast Muffliato. "Thank you, _oh great wizard_," I said, sarcastically.

"I DO NOT WANT THAT BRUTE IN OUR HOUSE!" Severus continued.

"Oh, put a goddamn sock in it!" I yelled. "I don't give a good goddamn WHAT you fucking want at this point!" Severus started to reply to this, eyes flashing, but I held up a hand and continued. "First of all, _you_ gave me this house, so it is technically mine! Secondly, I just went to the solicitors and arranged to give it back to you. I'm here to remove the rest of my things, and I will give you the key after I do so. Thirdly, I'm trying to placate Walden so that he won't fucking KILL YOU! NOTHING gives you the right to yell at me OR pass judgments on me! I never lied to you about any of my background, _EVER_. And_ I_ wasn't the one who got a fucked-up tattoo on his arm from some snake-headed asshole with delusions of grandeur, _YOU WERE_! I wish I had never met any of you jerks! AND FOR THE GODDESSES' SAKE, HOW _DARE_ YOU YELL AT ME ABOUT WALDEN, WHEN YOU'RE THE ONE WHO STROLLED IN HERE WITH YOUR TEENAGED WHORE WHILE I WAS SITTING ON THE GODDAMN SOFA, CRYING OVER YOU? HOW THE FUCK LONG HAVE YOU BEEN BRINGING HER HERE TO FUCK HER, ANYWAY?"

By the end of this rant, I had shoved Severus up against the closet door. His eyes were wide—I don't think he expected me to react in this fashion. As for me, I had regretted opening these particular emotional floodgates, but it was way too late now. Fueled by my overactive hormones, the frustrations of the past few months had finally exploded. I recalled a concept I had read about during my Muggle college days—something about stages that one went through after a traumatic experience. Denial was one stage, and I had certainly gone through that. Anger was another, and it had obviously surfaced. Eventually, the well-adjusted person was supposed to achieve a state of acceptance. I knew that I was a long way from that—I certainly couldn't envision being peaceful at any point in the near future-but at least the anger indicated that I was moving on.

We simply stared at each other for a moment after my outburst, and I slowly moved my hands down from his chest. He then spoke. "I told you. I have not engaged in romantic relationships with any of my students, ever, nor will I. Miss Avery came to me with concerns about her father. I believe you met him at the Revel?" Severus was very composed, but his words held an undertone of ice that he had never used with me before.

"Yeah, I met that sleazeball loser. What about him?" I realized that, given what I had heard about Avery, it could not be a good thing to be his young, teenaged daughter. Light began to dawn.

"He wants her to begin attending the Revels with him, rather than his wife," said Severus. He looked disgusted at the thought.

"That's—that's _disgusting_," I replied.

"My point exactly. I do not believe he's done anything else, but that is horrible enough in itself. Her mother has written to me about it, as well."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't have said that last part, Severus."

"You should not have told me that you were crying about me?" said Severus. "I can see why you would not want me to know," he continued, looking down at his boots. "I never understood why you wanted me in the first place."

"Oh Severus. Please don't say that. I meant I shouldn't have said what I said about—about Miss Avery." I looked at him. He wasn't meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry I said all of that stuff. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"I know that you did not mean those words, and that you said them only because of the anger," he said, softly. "I can still feel you, even without the pendant." Oh no. I hoped he hadn't been tuning into my particular frequency during the Revel. He reached out and took my hands in his, and kissed them.

I glanced down at my wrist and noticed my watch wasn't on it. It must have fallen off during all the confusion. "Severus, oh Gods, what time is it?" I said, frantically. He reluctantly let go of my hands and pulled out his pocket watch and consulted it. "6:30. I suppose Macnair will be along any moment now?" he said, with a deep sigh.

There was a whooshing noise around us—suddenly, I could hear noises from the rest of the house, and I knew that the Silencing Charm had been removed. I looked toward the source. The door was open and swinging on its hinges; as if it had been thrown open. I could have solved all of these problems if I had bothered to put up some freaking wards, I thought.

"Looking for me, Snape?" said Walden. Severus withdrew his wand, but Walden was too fast, and yelled "EXPELLIARMUS!" Severus' wand went flying through the air toward Walden's outstretched hand, and Severus was knocked over against the wall, where he landed with a thump. He tried to stand up, but the wind had been knocked out of him. I backed out of the way of the two wizards. There wasn't much room to do so in the entrance hall. Walden stared at Severus with a smirk on his face as he stashed both wands in the inside pocket of his woolen cloak. Then he took off the cloak, revealing his Ministry robes. He tossed the cloak into the corner, onto the landing, and gestured to me. "Get over there, out of the way, lass," he said. I scurried over and picked up the cloak and stood on the landing.

"No potions to help ye here, Snape, and no wands, either," sneered Walden. "Now we can settle this once and for all. What did you say that evening—ye wanted a fair fight? Ye've got it now." He advanced toward Severus, who had stood up and was dusting himself off. I noted, then, that Walden was at least three inches taller and quite a bit heavier than Severus, in addition to being more muscular. It didn't exactly look like a fair fight to me, not that anyone was asking my opinion. I was getting really tired of these stupid testosterone contests.

"I'm going to tell ye this for the last bloody time, Snape. Ye'll stay away from Rowan, from now on," continued Walden, as he strode up to Severus and pushed him onto the floor. He loomed over Severus and stared down at him. "The lady has made her choice quite clear. Ye are no longer a part of her life. She's having me son, and ye won't be taintin' her any more with yer vile, greasy half-blood self!" Severus clicked his fingers and he was suddenly standing up, facing Walden. _Cool spell_, I thought.

"Macnair, your entire existence is tainted!" screamed Severus. "You couldn't keep your own wife happy, so you had to steal someone else's! Perhaps you shouldn't have spent so much time bending over for Lucius!" And with those last words, he shoved Walden as hard as he could, so that he backed into the wall.

"I doona bend over for _anyone_, Snape, which is more than I can say for ye and that Muggle-loving Headmaster of yers!" growled Walden, and he threw a punch at Severus' head. Severus ducked, and swung at Walden, who sidestepped the blow in turn. Then they began to circle each other like prizefighters, fists raised.

The door to the living room opened and Minerva McGonagall, the absolutely last person that I had expected to see, walked through it, wand held high and leveled at the two wizards, who both froze in their tracks. They were apparently just as surprised as I was to see her, and both of them dropped their hands to their sides, like sheepish schoolboys.

"Severus, what is the meaning of this?" she said, in her haughty tones. I was still trying to figure out how she got there. "And Mr. Macnair. I'm surprised at you two—brawling like schoolchildren! Stop this nonsense immediately! And Madam Hawthorne. Can you explain this?"

_Not in a million years, lady_, I thought. I was sure that she hadn't had anything resembling romance or sex in her life for many, many years. I didn't see how I owed her an explanation, either. And what was she doing in my house, anyway? I remembered the striped cat and realized that she must be an Animagus. "Not really. We were just leaving. Nice to see you again, Minerva," I added.

Miss Avery, whose curiosity had overtaken her, peeked around Madam McGonagall's shoulders. "Hello, Mr. Macnair," she said, waving at him. Walden, despite his many admittedly brutal characteristics, had been taught to be a gentleman. So, he bowed quickly in her direction, and said, "Miss Avery," and then turned toward the Deputy Headmistress and bowed to her as well. "Madam McGonagall."

She ignored him. "Miss Avery, Severus, come with me," said Madam McGonagall, in tones of extreme ice. "We shall be returning to the school immediately," she added, as if she was planning to take all of us there and administer detention.

"I am not going anywhere until my wand is returned," said Severus, glaring at Walden. I reached in the pocket of Walden's cloak and withdrew Severus' wand, and tossed it to him. Then I tossed him the house key. "Er, um. Here's the house key, too. Good day, Professor," I said, feeling rather conspicuous. All eyes were on me.

Severus gave me a short bow and raised his eyebrow, and then he wheeled around and strode toward the door. Miss Avery followed him. Madam McGonagall was the last to leave, with an odd look at me as she closed the door.

"They showed up after I came here to pack," I said, clutching Walden's cloak.

"I've had just about _enough_ of that greasy bastard," growled Walden. "Get yer things and let's be rid of anything having ta do with him!" I opened the closet door and realized that I didn't have my wand. As I walked into the living room to retrieve it, Walden followed.

"What was he doing here with Avery's daughter and that dried-up old Gryffindor witch, anyway? Is he that desperate for a blood supply now that ye've left him?" continued Walden. I Summoned my wand from the table and handed Walden his cloak, staring idly at the furniture in the room. Without saying anything, I caused all the items to disappear, including the blanket and the empty food tray.

"Just as well, lass, I've plenty of furniture," said Walden. "Are those yer cartons in the closet?" He gestured back toward the entrance hall.

"Yes, and that's all that's left to go. And McGonagall and the Avery girl were here, consulting with Severus, because Avery is trying to get his daughter to go with him to the Revels instead of his wife," I said, wondering if perhaps I should have revealed that.

"WHAT!" roared Walden. "Are ye sure?" I nodded at him. "I'm going to have a talk with Lucius about that tonight!" he said, his face angry. I recalled that he had a daughter, and also recalled that he and Mrs. Avery were close friends. He walked back into the hall, waved his wand, and shrunk the roomful of cartons to the size of a small shoebox. Then he conjured a small bag and moved the cartons into it and handed it to me. "There ye are, lass," he said.

"Can we just Apparate out of here?" I asked. "I need to lock the place up."

"No wards?" he inquired. I shrugged at him as I locked the door. "Isn't that how I met ye in the first place?" he remarked, with a smirk. "Weell, ye should have learned yer lesson by now," he added, as he extended his hand to me. I took it and we Apparated with a POP! into the main entrance hall of Macnair Lodge.


	25. Chapter 25 – Endings and Beginnings

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

Well, this tale is nearing its end. The third story, "Spell-less in Seattle," (the updated version) will be posted Real Soon Now!

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 25 – Endings and Beginnings**

The rest of February was somewhat anticlimactic. As there really wasn't that much for me to do at Macnair Lodge during the day, I found myself spending a lot of time that month in Hogsmeade, completing the task of turning the store over to Morgaine.

Severus and I arranged a few brief visits, which were bittersweet and platonic. The school was quite busy due to the Triwizard Tournament, and we couldn't risk having one of the Slytherins, such as Cynthia Avery, see me and report to their parents.

And even worse than the brief visits was that during them, we were increasingly uncomfortable with each other. The pregnancy, which was not yet evident to the rest of the world, was essentially an 800-pound gorilla that always sat in the room with us, overshadowing all of our conversations. No matter how many polite words we whispered to each other, neither of us could figure a way out of the situation, so we usually just didn't talk about it.

As damp February proceeded into an unusually mild March, I realized that I would have to formulate a cogent plan, and soon. I had left most of my books and other items packed, and consolidated all of them into one box. I did, however, unpack most of my clothes and shoes, so that Walden wouldn't become suspicious. I left one suitcase packed—it contained the box that I just mentioned, as well as Erik's letter and other items that I didn't want to leave lying around. I explained to Walden that I had done this so that we could take it to the hospital at birth time, although I wasn't sure exactly how things worked in the British wizarding community; in Massachusetts, most witches had home births, assisted by midwives. I didn't want to ask Walden, so I decided to ask Morgaine.

It was raining the next day, so my flight into Hogsmeade was unpleasant, to say the least. Walden had been giving me Apparition lessons on weekends, but I didn't feel comfortable going solo as of yet. The streets of the village were empty and damp. The bell over the shop door even seemed to have a moist, muted, furtive sound when I walked in. Morgaine was seated at the counter, a cup of tea in one hand and a copy of _Witch Weekly_ in the other.

"Rowan, hello! You've got to read this article, it's hilarious," Morgaine said. She tossed me the magazine. "Imagine the nerve of that reporter—those children aren't even old enough to Apparate!" I blushed as I looked at the magazine. "_Harry Potter's Secret Heartache_," read the article. It concerned a Hogwarts love triangle, centered on some of the participants in the Triwizard Tournament. I certainly hoped that Morgaine wasn't trying to infer something about my life by pointing the article out to me, because I wasn't fully qualified to Apparate, either. I decided not to ask her about midwives that day.

"What a load of crap!" I said. "Do people actually take this mess seriously?"

"Oh yes, you'd be surprised," she said. "That girl will probably get nasty letters from some of the readers."

"They need to get a life," I said. "In fact, they can have some of mine," I added. _I_ certainly didn't need to read articles about love triangles. Thank the Goddess that Severus probably wouldn't read this particular magazine—he'd probably hex the publishers into oblivion. I tossed the magazine back to her and we pulled out the ledgers to finish up our latest project.

An hour or so later, Severus came in and Morgaine tactfully turned away as we walked toward the back of the shop. Once we were in the room and it was warded, we embraced.

"Rowan," he began, once we had sat down. "I have been thinking. We must formally dissolve our handfasting. What we said the night of the Revel won't placate Macnair forever. Has he insisted on a formal marriage ceremony?"

"Do you really want to know, Severus?" I asked, as I poured both of us a cup of tea.

"I do not, but I must," he replied.

"Yes. And he wants to have it as soon as possible," I said. Walden and I had, in fact, discussed this exact subject on the previous night. He had told me that his parents wanted us to visit so that a small marriage ceremony could be arranged in the very near future, in order to keep up appearances. I agreed, and had been trying to figure out how to tell Severus about it. Obviously, our minds were still connected and I hadn't needed to say anything.

"Well, let us proceed, then," he said, not looking at me.

"Don't you even want to say _anything_? Don't you even want to ask me if I have a plan? Do you think I intend to be married to Walden for the rest of my life?" I said, my voice rising a bit toward the end. I waved my wand to dampen the sound. I saw his face fall when I mentioned Walden's name.

"I have no wish to discuss this further at the moment. Let's get on with it."

"Fine!" I grabbed my bag and dumped my ritual items out onto the table. I had brought them today because I had been expecting to have to perform this particular ritual. Shooing Severus into a corner, I cast a very quick circle. I saw him look, questioningly, at the shimmering aura that hung in the room. Then, I cut a doorway and beckoned him inside.

"I suppose that I did not expect much from all your hocus-pocus," he remarked, glancing at the walls of the circle, especially where they permeated the floor and ceiling of the room.

"Thanks. You've always had such great confidence in me. That's one of the many reasons why I fell in love with you," I said. He smirked at me. "Now let's get divorced."

After the ceremony was finished, we couldn't look each other in the eye. We had another cup of tea, but Severus was somewhere very far away, and he kept rubbing at his left arm as if he had a rash or something. He finally left in a dramatic whirl of black cloak, mumbling something about not being able to miss this afternoon's round of classes.

I sat in the room and bawled for what must have been close to an hour after he left. I had finally explained my cryptic statement about "the Viking" that I had made to him the night of the Revel. With great reluctance, he copied down Erik's Muggle phone number onto a piece of parchment and shoved it into his robe pocket. I could see that he had his doubts about what I was proposing, but it was the best plan that I could come up with.

Morgaine eventually knocked on the door, by which time I was sufficiently composed to sit back down with the pile of ledgers and her. We hadn't gotten very far with our work when Walden came into the shop, at least an hour earlier than he normally did.

"Lass, come home with me," he said. "I'm not feeling up to snuff so I left work early." He, too, was rubbing his left arm. I got up and started searching the shelves for some chamomile and comfrey, so I could concoct an anti-itching salve for him. Perhaps the change in weather was causing it. "Come along now, Rowan," he said. "I'm needin' to lie down soon," he added. Morgaine blushed and turned away. She had admitted a few days ago that she found Walden to be quite attractive.

"I was just going to get something for your rash," I said.

"No need-I've some things at the lodge," he insisted, walking into the back room and retrieving my cloak, and then draping it over my shoulders. "Morgaine," he said, bowing at her. She smiled and waved at him, and then he took my hand and we Apparated.

After he had handed our cloaks to Peppy, one of his house-elves, and we were walking upstairs, he said, abruptly, "I'm nae feelin' ill, and I doona have a damned rash," and he pushed up his left robe sleeve. There, in all its ignominy, was the Dark Mark. I had, of course, seen it on numerous occasions, including this very morning when we had bathed together.

"It looks darker!" I exclaimed. _So __**that's**__ what was going on with Severus_, I thought.

"Noticeably so," he said, opening the door to our room. "I saw Rowle today and he told me his was darker as well," he added, as he walked over toward his wardrobe and threw it open. He took off his Ministry robe and shirt and tossed them on the floor for the house-elves, and then pulled out his lounging robe and put it on over his boxer shorts. He then sat down on the bed and began pulling off his boots. "Lass, why don't ye get undressed as well," he said, smirking at me. "Or I can do it for ye."

"I wouldn't mind that," I said, walking over to the wardrobe which he had conjured for me, and which stood next to his, and divesting myself of my robes. "What about, you know, the Minister. Was his…"

Walden laughed. "He doesna have the Mark." He Banished his boots into his wardrobe and sent his socks flying through the air to join the pile of discarded clothes. "He attends the Revels for the sex—why do ye think his wife wasna there?"

"Who doesn't attend for that reason?" I said, putting on my silk robe, which had been a gift from Walden a week or so after I'd moved in.

"Snape, I hope. And Mrs. Avery," he said. "Which reminds me," he added. "Let's eat and then I'm going to have a talk with Lucius." He rang the bell for the house-elves. Clearly, they had already prepared food, as two of them (Peppy and Zooey) arrived with a tray in less than five minutes after he had rung. We ate on the table in the bedroom. Walden drank Scotch and I had water—I had decided to forgo alcohol completely for the rest of the pregnancy.

"Do you mind stepping out of the room for a bit when I first talk with Lucius?" he asked, abruptly, after a long period of silence during which he decimated all his food (a large pile of very rare roast beef).

"No, of course not," I said.

"And would ye like me to invite him to share our bed tonight, lass?" Walden asked, with a smile, as he stood up and walked around to my side of the table.

I blushed. Sadly, that sounded like a very good idea to me. "Yes, very much so." He pulled me up then, into an embrace, and then carried me over to the bed. "Good," he drawled, as he covered me with his body. "I can't wait until the next Revel to watch ye with him again," and he kissed me after he said this, moving his hands under my robe.

"When is the next Revel?" I asked, and then immediately realized what I had said, and laughed. "Oh, geez…never mind, don't answer that." Morgaine and I had just put together plans for a Spring Equinox sale at the store. I had been reading some pregnancy-related books, but hadn't been truly prepared for a full-on attack of the "stupids."

"I've already sent our reply; they send our invitations together now," he said, untying my robe and sliding it off my shoulders. Then he stopped, and pulled my robe back up. "I really should get this horrid business out of the way before we take our pleasure," he said. "Go on, get out of here, before I change my mind," he said, laughing. He sat up and pulled his robe around himself then. It tented below his waist.

"I'll be in the study," I said, chuckling. "You might want to wait a few minutes before you Floo him," I added, as I walked out the door toward the study. "Or maybe not—maybe you'll talk faster."

* * *

By April, Morgaine and I had nearly completed our official business, but I still visited the store several times a week, simply for something to do. I had exhausted the resources of Walden's library—a lot of it dealt with Quidditch or magical creatures, and neither of those were favorite subjects of mine. I hadn't talked with or seen Severus in a month. He had not attended the March Revel. Several young Muggle-born witches had, though. I shuddered, although it was not that cold, remembering what I had seen during the Main Revel. I had made the mistake of staying for all of it. Walden had been involved. He didn't give an explanation for what he had done; he merely dragged me back to my room (I had Number 11 again), washed off the blood, and threw me on the bed.

The next day, I told him I was having an extended bout of morning sickness, and we left early. I consoled myself by thinking that the mess at the Revel had mostly been Avery's fault. But I couldn't help remembering the glint I had seen in Walden's eyes as he raised his knife, or the ecstatic look on his face as victim after victim crumpled in his arms. And he had been positively ravenous in bed that night, too.

Later that week, I had ordered a new vial of Imperius-resisting potion from Ambrosius, after ascertaining that it was not harmful to ingest while pregnant.

"Rowan?" Morgaine was holding a cup of tea out toward me, and I snapped back to present-day reality. It was late afternoon, and business had been slow for the last couple of hours. "Are you and Walden going to the Triwizard Tournament?"

"I don't know," I said. "I don't think it'd be that good of an idea, really—but I'm sure he can get tickets, of course. Did you want to go?"

"I think it might be rather fun," she said. "Professor Moody was telling me all about what's going to happen in the third task—" But she didn't finish her sentence, because the door opened, admitting a customer and an owl. The customer headed toward the back and the bins of loose herbs. The owl had its beak clamped firmly around a red envelope, and headed toward me. I backed slowly away.

"Oh Gods," I said. I had the feeling I knew who this might be from. I accepted the envelope and the owl flew away, managing to look patronizing and condescending, much like its owner often did, before I could even have the chance to think about sending a reply. However, I didn't have time to dawdle, so I ran to the back room and threw up a hasty Silencing Charm just in time. The Howler opened and began to scream at me.

"ROWAN, MY FORMER FRIEND,

YOU'VE REALLY GOTTEN YOURSELF INTO IT! WE TRAVELED ALL THE WAY TO MASSACHUSETTS FOR YOUR BINDING RITUAL, TO HELP YOU, AND YOU CLEARLY DON'T WANT ANYBODY'S HELP!

I DIDN'T LIKE THAT PROFESSOR SNAPE AT ALL, AND I TOLD YOU MY OPINION OF HIM, BUT AT LEAST HE WAS HALFWAY RESPECTABLE. HAVE YOU NO SHAME? AFTER ALL THAT HAPPENED TO YOU IN NEW ORLEANS, _HOW_ CAN YOU ASSOCIATE WITH A KNOWN DARK WIZARD LIKE MACNAIR? HE AND HIS FRIENDS WERE THE ONES WHO ATTACKED YOU, HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THAT? HE'S LITTLE MORE THAN A MURDERER—HELL, HE _IS_ A MURDERER! BRIAN TALKED TO CHARLIE WEASLEY, AND CHARLIE KNOWS ALL ABOUT HIM. HE'S ONLY IN THAT MINISTRY JOB BECAUSE HE GETS PAID FOR DOING WHAT HE LOVES, WHICH IS KILLING!

I'VE ALREADY OWLED RHIANNON AND INANNA. I DON'T WISH TO BE MAGICALLY ASSOCIATED WITH YOU EVER AGAIN! BRYAN AND I ARE LEAVING THE COVEN, AND WE'RE NEVER GOING BACK. I TOLD HER TO GIVE SERIOUS CONSIDERATION TO THROWING YOU OUT AND DOING A BINDING ON YOU!

DON'T BOTHER WRITING BACK TO ME—MY OWL HAS INSTRUCTIONS TO NOT ACCEPT A LETTER FROM YOU. MAY THE ANCIENT AND MIGHTY ONES DEAL THEIR ETERNAL JUSTICE TO YOU FOR TURNING FROM THE PATH OF LIGHT!

SO MOTE IT BE!

MICHELE

P.S. YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER WOULD BE ASHAMED!

After the Howler had finished spewing its venom, it exploded, leaving behind a pile of ashes.

Well, that was that, I thought, slumping over onto my arms on the desk. Two weeks ago, Michele had written me a friendly letter, hoping to visit Hogsmeade and check out the store. I had replied to her and given her the news, and the Howler was obviously her idea of an answer to my letter.

I summoned a piece of parchment and a quill and wrote to Rhiannon. It was high time I apprised her of the situation. I filled two pages with as brief of an explanation as I could come up with, and then ran to the Owl Office to send the letter. I wanted to mail it before Walden's arrival.

However, I found myself, later that evening, complaining to him about Michele. I had tried my best to forget, but my self-imposed teetotaling wasn't helping my mood.

"Twenty years of friendship gone just like that," I said, looking grimly at my plate, which I hadn't touched. Michele and I had been friends as children, and attended the same Muggle private schools. She had known my parents. We had lost touch for a time after we attended different Muggle colleges. In our 20s, both of us had, independently of each other, discovered the Institute and renewed our friendship. And she had been responsible for me visiting Hogwarts two years ago, when I had come to visit her and her husband Bryan, a British wizard who also had a Muggle career as a professor at Oxford.

"So ye've known her as long as I've known Lucius, eh? I canna say that Lucius hasna insulted me over the years, but we've always managed to remain friendly, somehow," replied Walden. He poured a short tot of Scotch into a crystal glass. "Here, lass, one won't hurt ye or Evan," he said.

"No, I don't like that stuff," I said. "Do you know Charlie Weasley?"

"Aye, he's a dragon master," replied Walden. "Works in Romania, usually. Last time I saw him was at the school during that first Triwizard task."

Thank Goddess, a way to get off the sore subject of my lost friendship. "That reminds me. Can you get tickets for the third task?" I asked.

"Aye, o'course," he responded, with a smile. "I had wanted to go, myself. I've been told there'll be lots of magical creatures involved with it. I may actually have to go in an official capacity." That reminded me of what Michele had said in her letter and I looked down at my plate again.

"Well, Morgaine wants to go—she likes that new Professor…oh, never mind," I said, remembering, too late, about Professor Moody's previous employ.

"New Professor?" inquired Walden.

"Yeah, that Dark Arts professor. I, uh, don't recall his name. He comes in the store a lot," I said.

"He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts, I'd think, unless Hogwarts has changed since I went there," said Walden.

"Well, yeah. Anyway, could you get a ticket for Morgaine, too?" I asked. And after that, we discussed other matters, and headed up to bed.

* * *

On the morning of the May Revel, rather than sleeping in, we went to his parents' manor and were married in a very brief and very small ceremony—it involved only us, his parents (who I actually did enjoy speaking with), his two younger sisters, his son and daughter (whose company I also enjoyed), and Lucius and his wife. The officiant was a Ministry employee who seemed unusually anxious to get the whole thing over with.

After the ceremony, we went directly to Malfoy Manor. I had decided that the early May Revel would be the last one I'd attend until after Evan was born. I did not sign up for the Main Revel, either. I fell asleep at about 1 AM, alone in Room Number 11, and woke up early the next morning in the guestroom, Walden sleeping next to me, his arm around my waist. I had been having a vivid, pleasant dream—I was in Massachusetts, dancing happily around the Maypole with the smiling members of my coven, Michele and Bryan among them. Reality, however, was a different story. When I tiptoed off to the bathroom (which had become an increasingly frequent occurrence), I didn't wake Walden. He looked rather peaceful, or so I thought, until I saw his axe—with a suspicious dark stain on it-leaning against the wardrobe, next to our overnight bag. I nearly didn't make it through the door in time.

When we returned to the lodge, there were two owls from the Relay Service for me. I stuck them in the suitcase in my closet, unread.

By the beginning of June, I had started to show a bit, but robes were very forgiving. I was worried, of course, about seeing Severus, but he hadn't visited the store in over a month. After waiting on several occasions for him to arrive, I decided to limit my Hogsmeade visits to once a week—during which time I also did whatever shopping was necessary. By this time, I could Apparate with ease—Walden was a good teacher, all things considered.

And so time passed that spring, until the day of the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, the day that changed everything.


	26. Chapter 26 – The Boys are Back in Town

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

This chapter ends with a bit of a cliffhanger—sorry! Review, review, it couldn't hurt!

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 26 – The Boys are Back in Town**

June twenty-fourth was a Thursday, and, glancing out the window, I noted that it was an absolutely perfect sunny summer day. Fat, fluffy white clouds floated in the sky, birds chirped everywhere, and I was miserable. A bad bout of morning sickness had awoken me just before sunrise. I yawned, punched the pillow, and tried to get back to sleep, but it was fruitless.

Furthermore, I had not gotten to sleep until quite late the previous night. Walden had stayed up with me; we spent most of the night amusing ourselves in the trophy room. As the weather became warmer, and that room was always cool, I found myself joining him there more often than not of an evening, rather than spending time in my study upstairs. Walden had even cleared off a shelf for me and moved a large stack of books down for my reading enjoyment. Additionally, I had felt much more comfortable in the trophy room since Walden had taken me into his Pensieve and showed me his memories of the night we had met. Contrary to Severus' version of the events, and the version that resided in my old Pensieve (memories which, I was by then rather firmly convinced, had been engineered by Lucius), Walden had not acted in a brutal manner. He had, however, just as he described, had his way with me in the guestroom bed—but from what I could see, I had enjoyed his attentions, which were more enthusiastic than anything else.

Finally, out of sheer desperation, bored with all of my books, I began a game of chess with Walden. I couldn't keep my mind on it, though, and most of my pawns ended up dying horrible, grisly deaths at the hands of his chessmen. Walden's wizard chess set, which was a family heirloom like most other objects in the house, was one of the most brutal I had ever seen. After my fifth pawn's beheading at the end of his knight's realistic-looking miniature claymore, I had to run for the bathroom.

When I came out, looking pale and sweaty, Walden insisted on tucking me in to the downstairs guestroom bed. He rang for the house-elves, who promptly brought a tray of tea, toast, and broth. I protested weakly as he cajoled me into eating some of the food. Then, I attempted to drink the anti-morning sickness potion that Morgaine had made for me, but its licorice flavor, which I normally enjoyed, was suddenly and inexplicably disgusting. I ran to the bathroom again.

After that, we took a hot bath together, and in the bath, I was overcome by such desire for him that we barely made it back to the bed. I finally had fallen asleep in his arms after our third go-round.

I smiled at the memory of our lovemaking as I stretched again, attempting not to wake Walden, but I had pulled some of the covers off him by accident, and he stirred.

"Mmmmmmmm," he moaned, and stretched his arms. "I never intended to have us sleep down here. It gets too cold during the night, even during the summer." And it was, I recalled, with a start, indeed summer. The Solstice had come and gone, and we had not, at my request, attended the Revel. Walden had explained that many of the usual participants would be on holiday, some of them taking advantage of their children's lengthy terms at Hogwarts. He hadn't seemed upset about not going, either, reiterating that we didn't have to attend each one.

"This bed is so uncomfortable," he said, as he continued to stretch his arms and his shoulders. "Been meaning to fix it for years." I got closer to him and put an arm around him and rested a hand in his thick chest hair and looked at him. A light dusting of black whiskers had formed on his jaw during the night. His black hair, which he kept short (this was somewhat rare among more traditionally-minded wizards) was slightly askew, but his thin mustache was neat and militarily straight, as always. (He had confessed to me that he performed a weekly charm on it to keep it neat.) The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile as I gazed into his bright blue eyes.

"What is it, lass?" he asked, putting his large arms around me and crushing me to his chest.

"You're so damned good-looking," I mumbled, feeling a rush of desire for him so acute that I was embarrassed by it. Worse, I was involuntarily comparing him to Severus in my mind. Severus was not conventionally handsome by any means, but his intense, dark, brooding presence made up for his shortcomings in other areas. Walden needed no such compensation. I truly hated this train of thought and blushed.

"Ye're nae bad yourself," answered Walden. I felt the rumble of his voice and shivered with pleasure. He gently lifted me and brushed a kiss across my lips. "Our son will be a fine-looking man because of ye, I have no doubt."

"That is, if he ever lets me eat," and I grimaced a bit with the memory of earlier that morning. And then I felt a strange sensation. "Oh my. I think he just moved!"

"Really?" asked Walden. I turned over and grabbed his hand and put it on my belly, next to my hand. I felt another sensation, an odd little fluttering, and turned to Walden, who had an incredulous expression on his face. "Did you feel that?" I asked.

"Aye," he said. He pulled me close again and kissed me, deeply this time, moaning with pleasure as he caressed my back and rolled me onto my side. (We had abandoned the missionary position, by mutual consent, for the duration of my pregnancy) "It makes me want ye, lass," he said, as he parted my thighs and stroked two of his large fingers over me. I was almost instantly wet and ready for him.

"Take me, Walden," I said. "Please. Now." And he did, and another time after that.

* * *

The Ministry offices were closed that day, as most of the officials needed to be at the school, so after we had finally arisen, bathed, and dressed, Walden and I went into Hogsmeade to have a late lunch with Morgaine prior to attending the Tournament.

Hogsmeade was deserted—the bulk of the townspeople seemed to be in the Three Broomsticks, so there were no seats immediately available for us, but Morgaine and I had done more than a few favors for Rosmerta in our time, so she made a space and Walden conjured a table and chairs for us. We ordered lots of food and drinks, as I felt hungry for the first time in days.

"Are ye still hungry?" said Walden, as I finished my sandwich and looked around the table for more food. "I'll order more if ye want."

"No, no—I shouldn't eat any more, I really shouldn't," I said, but he was already waving Rosmerta over, so I got another appetizer and another dessert, both of which I finished (slapping Walden's hand away when he tried to take a bite of each). Morgaine seemed to think it was all hilariously funny. The jovial mood remained with us when the sun began its journey toward the West, and most of us at the Three Broomsticks began our journey toward the gates of Hogwarts.

When we arrived at the gates, we were escorted along with the other visitors, to the Quidditch field, which was entirely covered with a massive maze composed of large hedges. Walden and I headed toward the Slytherin stands, where we met Lucius and his wife, and found our seats. I glanced around and didn't see Severus in the stands, not that I had expected to. Morgaine, who had been chatting with some of her Hogsmeade acquaintances on the walk over, went to sit with them in the Hufflepuff stands, with a shrug and wink at me. As there was time before the event began, I headed off to the bathroom. When I returned, I noted that from our perch in the stands, we could see down into the maze.

Walden pointed out some of the creatures that were being led into the maze by Hagrid and other handlers, who I didn't recognize. "Let's stay a bit after the tournament is over, lass. I want ta have a look at that Sphinx," he remarked. "And I've wanted to get me hands on one of those Skrewts ever since I read that article in the _Prophet_." His eyes gleamed with excitement and he grinned like a young boy.

"You're going to have to do so without us, then, Walden," remarked Lucius. "I have no desire to see that great oaf Hagrid today or any other day." He frowned and examined his pocket watch and tapped his foot impatiently. "When is this damn thing starting?"

"Well, I canna imagine Hagrid wants to see _me_ after that business last year, really," Walden replied. "So I brought a little bribe," he added, pulling a small cask with a label reading "Ogden's Old Firewhiskey" out of his robe pocket and waving it at Lucius. I looked at it and burst out laughing—it was about the size of a Muggle milk carton.

"What?" said Walden, looking at me curiously.

"Well, it's not a very _good_ bribe, is it? He'll be able to drain that in about two seconds," I said.

"I shrank it," said Walden, laughing. "I can't show ye how large it actually is as it'd take up a lot of room." He stowed it away and pulled me close, kissing me and whispering, "Honestly, lass," while continuing to laugh.

Feeling rather silly, I pulled my Omnioculars out of my robe pocket and began taking a closer look at the maze. Walden leaned close, and asked. "Can I have a look then-och, _shite_!" he exclaimed, and rubbed at his left arm. Lucius looked at him curiously, and then frowned and did the same. I glanced at Messrs. Crabbe and Goyle, further down the row of seats, and they were both looking furtively around as they scratched at their arms. Avery, a few rows behind us, had taken his arm out of his robe and was practically tearing at it with his fingernails.

"Walden, would you come with me for a moment," murmured Lucius, so that only he, Walden, and I could hear, as he stood up and headed toward the stairs. Walden followed him a few seconds later.

They returned, separately, in about three minutes' time. Lucius whispered to his wife, and then got up and left. She turned to Mrs. Crabbe, who in turn spoke to Mrs. Goyle. Both of those ladies spoke to their husbands. She then motioned over Mrs. Avery and spoke to her. While all of this was going on, I was attempting to ignore it by idly looking over the field below. I raised my Omnioculars again to get a closer look at the Sphinx, because somehow I knew we wouldn't be seeing Hagrid after the tournament.

Just before the crowd cheered at the appearance of the four young wizards who would be competing in the task, Walden pulled me close. "You're not feeling well, are ye, lass?" he asked, loudly.

"Actually, uh, I feel OK," I said.

"No, ye look a bit ill to me," he said, standing up and pulling me up with him. "So sorry, pregnant wife, ye know," he said, to the rapidly dwindling crowd in the Slytherin stands. "Come along, I'm sure ye'll feel better when we get home."

"But, I—" I stopped when he gave me a look. "Uh, I do need to lie down, actually." He picked me up, then, and carried me in his arms all the way to the Hogwarts gate. Once there, he walked rapidly outside it and we Disapparated, and Apparated into the trophy room at the lodge. I looked around—Lucius was already there, sitting in one of the chairs by the empty fireplace. He nodded, smiled, and winked at me as Walden carried me through to the guestroom and laid me down on the bed. As he opened the door, I heard two more small "pops," indicating two more Apparitions.

"Lass, I need ye to stay in here for a while," he said. "Can I get ye anythin'?"

"Could you justget my book—the one sitting on the table—and maybe some water, please. Does this have something to do with your Mark?" I asked.

"Aye," he grunted, and withdrew his wand to Summon the items I had asked for. "I'll be back in a bit," he said, as he closed the door behind him.

At least thirty minutes passed during which I didn't get through very much of the book, finding myself rereading the same few paragraphs. Walden abruptly reentered the room, walking very quickly. I was dismayed, but not surprised to see that he was dressed in his familiar long, black robe, the one I had seen him wear on the first night I had met him. In his right hand, he held his Death Eater mask and his wand.

"I have to go," he said. "All of us do. I doona know how long we'll be gone. Tell the elves to have some food ready, though, would ye?" He leaned over and kissed me.

"But—what's going on?" I said. "All of _us_? Who else is here besides Lucius?"

"I canna tell ye any of that. I have to go now," he repeated, backing up toward the door, turning and passing through it, and closing it behind him. I jumped up and ran to the door and pressed my ear against it. Faintly, I heard the sound of several "pops."

Frustrated, I paced the room for a while, then, I rang the elves and asked them to have enough food ready for ten people. I figured that, since Walden was involved, overestimating was always a good thing. I made several visits to the bathroom. I tried to keep reading my book, but the words didn't make any sense. I even attempted to sleep, but could not. I felt several more flutterings from Evan, who had most likely picked up on my discomfiture.

There was really only one explanation that fit all of the facts that I had observed—not that I liked it one bit. The Dark Lord had obviously returned somehow and was calling his followers to his side.

I stood up, opened the door, and walked out into the trophy room. I searched through Walden's books in vain—I even Apparated upstairs and checked my books. None of them had any information on Portkeys and pregnancy. However, I couldn't imagine, given the area that Portkeys affected, that it would be a good idea to use one while carrying a child. Going anywhere now, with no information, was not an option for me, then; I felt very foolish.

I sighed deeply and Apparated back downstairs—they hadn't returned yet. I noticed the small cask of Firewhiskey sitting on one of the tables, picked it up and sat it on the floor, frowning as I did. _Probably no point in sending it to Hagrid now_, I thought. I then waved my wand at it and muttered an Enlargement Charm. The cask grew to the size of an end table. Figuring that it might go over well, I levitated it up to the table and Summoned a bunch of glasses to sit next to it.

Then I walked back into the guestroom (leaving the door to the trophy room ajar) and attempted to read my book again. I had just started to actually get interested in it when I heard a series of pops—four, to be precise. I didn't get up right away. I heard voices from the other room.

"Well, Walden," said Lucius. "_You_ certainly seem to have remained in his favor. 'Better victims,' indeed."

"Lucius," said Walden. And then I couldn't hear the rest of what he said. Heavy footsteps sounded, and I heard the bathroom door being opened.

"Wait just a minute, Goyle, me wife is in the bedroom and she might be asleep," said Walden.

A murmur was the reply.

"Sod off, Goyle, I'll never give ye a chance to touch her," replied Walden, but he was chuckling. And then he pushed open the door. He was still in his long black robe, but his mask, thankfully, was off. "Rowan, you're awake," he said, approaching me. I reached up and rang for the elves. "Very good. And ye set out the Ogden's. Crabbe's already into it. We only have three visitors, and I believe ye know all of them," he continued, as he slipped the robe over his head and sat it down, carefully, in the chair next to the bed. He then extended his hand to help me up.

I accompanied him into the trophy room. Lucius, Crabbe and Goyle were there. The former two stood up and bowed in my direction. The latter was still standing next to the bathroom door, and he bowed at me before heading through it.

The elves came down with the food, which all of us enjoyed. I didn't, of course, drink the whisky, but everyone else seemed to be enjoying it in copious amounts. Nobody spoke much while the food was being consumed. After everyone was done with their meals, and the elves had cleared away the plates, I had some tea. Walden brought out some brandy, and the men drank it. Lucius was smoking a cigarette with his—I recognized the aroma instantly and winked at him. He offered it to me and I shook my head.

Walden brought out his pipe and tobacco and began to smoke. He didn't do this very often; he had told me that it helped him to think. The last time I had seen him do it was on the day of our wedding, when he had talked with his father. I didn't take this as a good sign. Crabbe and Goyle, meanwhile, just sat and drank, resembling two large boulders.

After several uncomfortable minutes, I stood up. "Walden, I believe I should probably go upstairs," I said.

"Nay," said Walden, between puffs. "Sit down."

I started to protest, but Lucius interjected. "No point in leaving; you need to know about this." So, I sat down, and Lucius began.

"Tonight," and he gestured toward himself and the other men, "we—my brothers and I—witnessed a miracle." _Yeah, and you all slouched toward Bethlehem for it, right?_ I thought. I tried not to grimace, smirk, or otherwise make any facial expression that might give away the fact that I thought that Lord Voldemort was a total fucking asshole, and I, for one, fervently wished that he had not come back. I assume I was successful, for Lucius continued on.

"Yes, after all these years, Lord Voldemort has returned to us!" said Lucius. _What was I expected to say or do-perhaps hum "Darth Vader's Theme" while saluting?_ "Well. I, uh, sort of figured that's what was going on. That's really, um, interesting," I said. _In the Chinese sense_, I added, mentally.

"Things certainly will become more interesting from here on out," Lucius agreed. "Your husband was honored by our Lord, personally." _Oh goodie_, I thought. _Did he give him a gold-plated axe, or something? I have really got to get the fuck out of this place as soon as I can._

"Personally?" I said, looking over at Walden, who nodded. I so did not want to know what that involved.

"Yes, our Lord promised him better victims," said Lucius, with a grin. "I, for one, am looking forward to that."

I just nodded weakly, and Lucius went on. "We did have a spot of trouble tonight with our chosen victim, but I'm certain that we won't fail the next time round."

"I was almost to him when he ordered us to stop," said Walden. "If that arsehole Avery hadn't been in my way…."

"There's no point in dwelling on that now, Walden," said Lucius. "You remember what he told us before we left."

"Aye," he said. Crabbe and Goyle stood up, and Goyle spoke. "We really should get back, Lucius."

"You two go on," he replied, taking another drag on his hand-rolled cigarette. With two sloppy-sounding "pops," the two goons disappeared.

"Now that they're gone we can speak a bit more freely," Lucius said. _Hey buddy_, I felt like saying, _you know, in case you forgot, I'm not under your curse anymore, so maybe you shouldn't trust me_. But I figured he didn't really trust anyone, so I kept quiet.

"I imagine the Revels are going to be a bit different now," continued Lucius. "Ah well, I had so enjoyed using all of that energy." By energy, I assumed he meant the vast amount of magical energy that was generated as a result of all the sexual activity that occurred at the Revels. I had been meaning to ask him what he did with it for months now. "So you _do_ use it," I said. "I had been wondering." I tapped the side of my cup and refilled it with tea.

"My, Moonchild, you never cease to amaze me. Most of it went toward increasing my family's fortunes, but I can't say I haven't used it for other, more pleasurable pursuits," he finished.

"Who hasn't?" I said.

"Most of my guests have no idea of my higher purposes," said Lucius. "And that's the way I prefer it. Avery, for example."

"I'm going to kill him," Walden said. "I've had enough of his sniveling."

"Yes, he certainly did try and circumvent all of us, didn't he?" said Lucius.

"And while I'm at it, perhaps I can get our Lord's permission to kill Snape as well. Do ye have any doubt that he was the _one who left forever_, Lucius?" asked Walden. He released a great puff of smoke after these words, as if he were a particularly malevolent dragon.

"I do believe that's what our Lord meant, but …as you know, I do have some doubts about him…" responded Lucius.

"Are you sure that you don't want me to go upstairs now, Walden?" I asked. I really wasn't in the mood for hearing any more of this.

"Stay here, lass," he said, patting his lap. "On second thought, let's all go upstairs," he said, with a grin. "Lucius, are you interested?"

"Of course," he replied, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray as he stood up. "Always."

"But, I'm—" I gestured at my rounded belly. _And I hate you, and you're evil_, I added mentally.

"That just makes you all the more attractive to me, Moonchild," said Lucius, stepping close to me and putting his hands on my shoulders. "Shall we?" So, we all Disapparated toward the bedroom.

* * *

Things did not radically change right away, though. On the Monday following the disastrous tournament, Walden went to work at the Ministry, as if it was any other day. I made sure to read the Prophet, but there were no banner headlines proclaiming "THE DARK LORD RETURNS"! What was going on? Walden hadn't explained anything more to me, especially the name of the mysterious victim that they had fruitlessly pursued that night.

I did go into Hogsmeade and explain to Morgaine that I had gotten ill and had to leave early. She told me she figured that's what had happened and hadn't worried. I also sent a very vaguely worded owl to Severus, asking him to reply via the store.

A week or so went by before I received a reply, but that didn't surprise me, as I knew that he had lots of end-of-term duties to attend to. Morgaine handed me his letter, as well as two that had arrived via the Relay Service—they looked as if they were from Rhiannon. Those, I decided not to read, and stuck them in my robe pocket before going into the back of the store to read Severus' letter:

_Dear Rowan,_

_I appreciate your concern, and understand what you wrote between the lines. I am quite aware of the events that occurred after the Tournament. As the situation has changed, I have been tasked by the Headmaster to perform a duty that I had hoped I would never have to accomplish. I may be seeing you in the near future as a result. _

_Best, Severus_

"Aaaaaaaaugh!" I screamed. "Infuriating man!" What on earth was his duty, and why was he going to see me while doing it? He was as secretive as ever. I decided to destroy his letter, as I was afraid that my pre-partum clumsiness and forgetfulness might compromise his safety.

* * *

June turned to July, and I turned larger and more ungainly than ever. We received an owl with our invitation (properly addressed) to the August first Revel. Lucius had enclosed a personal note stating that I would have to attend, no matter what. I didn't like the sound of that at all, but, nevertheless, I went into Hogsmeade to try and find dress robes that didn't make me look like I had swallowed a beach ball. This was quite difficult and I didn't feel as if I was completely successful.

On the morning of the Revel, I was nervous and irritable. Walden seemed to be a million miles away. The event proceeded much as the others had—we were picked up in the Ministry car and transported to Malfoy Manor. This time, however, Minister Fudge was not with us. The pre-dinner drinks and the dinner occurred without significant incident. Severus, however, was there; he did not acknowledge either Walden or me. When the women were sent off for their desserts and coffee, I began to feel anxious. In fact, I was sure that my face almost exactly matched my robes (which were green). I noted that not many women were in the room, and when the men returned to escort us away, presumably to downstairs, I began to feel rather frightened.

Walden was silent as he led me down to Room 11. After we entered, and he closed the door, I suddenly realized that something was different tonight—he never came straight to the trysting room with me.

"What's going on? Why are you here—we haven't even filled out our…er…dance cards…." I began.

He pulled a small packet out of his robes and sat it on the bed. "Ye'll need to put these on," he said, by way of an answer. He tapped the packet with his wand and shook out two long black robes. One of them was smaller than the other, and he handed it to me.

"I don't understand," I said, staring at the robe in his hand rather than taking it from him. I looked down on the bed and saw _two_ Death Eater masks. "Oh no. No. No, I _won't_ wear that stuff. I _won't_."

"Ye must," he said, and donned his robe. "All of the wives and consorts must wear them."

"No way," I said. "I_ don't_ want to go. Can't I just wait here?" I held the robe in my hand. It felt cold and slimy to the touch; it was definitely full of something nasty.

"Nay, our Lord has commanded it," he said, as if this was supposed to be the final word. "All of the wives are going ta receive the Mark tonight," and he looked at me. "In case ye forgot, that does include ye, my lass."

"Um. Aren't I supposed to, um, support him or something, um, in order to do that? I'm, well, undecided on where I stand on the, er, issue. And I'm not Dark," I said. I sounded like a complete moron. In fact, I sounded a lot like Minister Fudge. I wondered if, had he been in attendance, he would have gotten his own Mark tonight.

"Rowan, this isna time for joking," said Walden, frowning. "Just put it on and let's go." He picked up his mask, which looked different than it had before. It now had designs on it that looked like spears. I just stood there. "I said, _put it on_!" I continued standing there, feeling very unsteady on my feet. He moved closer to me and grabbed my arm. "Ye are my wife and ye _will_ obey me. We must go now. Put on yer robe or I'll _make ye do it_!" His voice rose toward the end of this sentence and his eyes flashed with anger. He started to reach for his wand.

I took the robe and put it over my head. I wouldn't look at him. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I wasn't going to let them show. I rubbed my hand over my belly. "_Dear Evan_," I thought. "_Your mother is an idiot. I will get you away from this somehow. Please don't make the same mistakes I did_." Then I picked up the mask. It had vaguely Celtic designs on it. I instantly loathed it.

"I had it made just for ye, lass," he said, as if I was supposed to be honored. "Getting the Mark is meant to be for yer protection, I doona understand why ye're being so difficult," he added. "Now let's go." He pushed open the door, took my arm, and led me through. We walked down the hall toward the room where the Main Revels were held. A line of black-robed people was in front of us. We both put on our masks once we reached the end of the line, a fact that I found very symbolic, somehow. The mask felt cool against my skin, but not in any way soothing. Shortly after we joined it, the line began to move into the room.

The room had changed subtly since the last Main Revel I had attended. The lights were dimmed, and there was no music. Gone were the couches and chairs and the food tables, gone was the equipment from the raised platforms around the walls. The only furniture that remained was one thronelike chair. And in that chair sat a man with a bald head and slitlike eyes, dressed in a robe identical to the ones we were all wearing.

"Welcome, Death Eaters!" said Lord Voldemort.


	27. Chapter 27 – Mistakes Become Apparent

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

This chapter contains some rather squicky things (were you surprised?), but they are somewhat necessary to the plot. If you do not wish to read it, email me and I'll give you a synopsis (with low squick potential).

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 27 – Mistakes Become Apparent**

_At least he didn't say "Knights",_ I thought, as we all proceeded into the room and, breaking from the line in order to move toward clearly prearranged places, formed a circle around the throne-like chair. Walden and I stood to the left of the chair; we were not directly facing the Dark Lord from our vantage point, which was just fine with me. I noted that there was a large gap in the circle, slightly to the right of us (and to the right of two large figures that could only be Crabbe and Goyle).

Once we had all found our places, the Dark Lord spoke again. "Very good. As this is going to take some time, sit down." I heard a whooshing noise and there were suddenly chairs behind all of us. The gap in the circle remained chair-free. I don't really know why that particular conjuring bothered me so much—perhaps because it was evident that he hadn't expended much energy to perform such a complicated magical act. We sat down.

"Now. While many of you may think that my return means that the future of our world view is almost certainly assured, let me be the first to disavow you of this assumption." He paused after this sentence, and I saw him look around at the robed figures that were in his direct line of sight, although I was sure that he was directing this specifically at such paragons of intelligence as Crabbe and Goyle. I assumed that it was significant that they were guarding his back.

"No, there is a long struggle ahead of us, a struggle that we must face as a unified whole. That is why I have asked you to bring your wives and consorts with you tonight. It is only through the strength of our families that we will vanquish the forces that seek to dilute our power," he continued, as he stood up and began walking (counterclockwise—not that I had expected any different) around the circle. And then he stopped in front of Walden and me. Crap.

"I see here," and he gestured, with his long spindly fingers, toward my belly, "the hope of the future. This family of Purebloods is a shining example of the future of the Wizarding World." _Oh, GROSS_, I thought. _Please, please, go away, and don't touch me!_ And then I realized that he probably was a Legilimens, and remembered the lead-lined bank vault that I had pictured in order to keep Severus out of my thoughts. I grimaced, hoping that I had blocked him in time, because if not, I was pretty much up Shit Creek at that point. But he had, thankfully, moved on, without further comment to or about us. Walden touched my arm briefly after the Dark Lord had stopped in front of another figure, perhaps out of affection. At this point, I really didn't want any affection from him, but to allay suspicion, I touched his arm, as if to offer a reply.

The Dark Lord went on with his rant. "Each of you, my loyal servants, will bring your wives or consorts and accompany me to a separate room, in turn. We will not be having an initiation ceremony for them—they will be receiving the Mark purely for their own protection. As our numbers grow, it is important to be able to ascertain quickly where each witch or wizard's loyalties truly lie. Let us begin now, my Knights, let us herald the dawn of the new age!" _Oh, blecch_, I thought. _He went there_. After those annoying sentiments, he walked toward the masked figures in front of his chair. The circle shifted and three people walked with him toward a door that I hadn't previously noted. I knew, and I wasn't sure how, exactly, that two of them were Lucius and his wife. The third person, clearly a wizard from the way he was walking, stayed outside the door, guarding it.

Nobody spoke while they were gone. The time seemed to pass very quickly, though, and the couple returned, and then the next two people in the circle got up and went into the room. They were gone a bit longer. By the time they returned, I was getting rather nervous. Sweat was running down my face under the mask. I was not sure exactly what was holding it on my face, either. Plus, I felt queasy, but as that was a regular occurrence these days, I didn't worry about it that much. The next couple got up and went into the room. Now there were only—I counted—three more couples left until us.

As usually happens in this sort of situation, time moved very quickly. When it was our turn, Walden stood up and took my arm. We walked toward the door and I thought that I might as well be walking toward the gallows, seeing as how I had my very own executioner to escort me. We walked up to the wizard standing beside the door. He gave a barely perceptible nod to Walden, and opened the door for us.

The room was dim, and contained yet another throne-like chair, twin to the one in the main room. The Dark Lord was sitting in it. We approached him. When we were about three feet away (which was close enough for me), Walden indicated that I should kneel. I did, feeling rather silly. My knees popped and I winced. Walden knelt next to me. The Dark Lord stood up and got very close to us. He didn't smell very pleasant. I wanted to vomit. I was unable to stop the thoughts coursing through my mind, most of which centered on kicking Michele's ass for getting me into this mess in the first place, and then sending me a Howler about it. Of course, I knew that getting to _this_ particular point was completely my fault, but violent thoughts were uppermost in my mind, and I remembered that both Severus and Walden had remarked that the robes and masks had a negative effect as they were charged with Dark energy. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath just as the Dark Lord spoke.

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Macnair. Welcome, Walden, and welcome, Rowan." With these words, our masks instantly disappeared from our faces and our hoods fell back. I opened my eyes and looked directly at the Dark Lord's knees, covered by his robe. For some reason this struck me as slightly amusing, but I wasn't about to laugh. "You may stand up." Walden helped me up and my knees popped again. Now I was looking right at the Dark Lord. I attempted to not meet his eyes, which were red, glowing, serpentine, and positively nasty.

"Come closer, child," he said, to me. "You were formerly Severus Snape's wife, were you not?"

_Oh Gods, oh Gods. He knew everything_. I suppose I had expected as much. I didn't move closer until Walden shoved me.

"Er, yes, uh, sir." I finally croaked, while attempting to regain my balance. I totally didn't want to give him an honorific, but I also didn't want to get killed on the spot for being disrespectful—even though I had no respect for him at all. Could he even be considered human, or male? He sure as shit didn't look like it.

"An American Pureblood witch. How very fascinating. You studied under a Dark wizard in New Orleans, did you not? And then you were an instructor at that bastion of liberalism and Muggle-pandering in Salem, correct? I can understand why you left," he said.

_Well, apparently we could agree on at least that much_. "Yes, it, er, is quite liberal, um, sir," I said. I had read, in some of Severus' books, that it was hypothesized that the victim of the Killing Curse felt nothing as it was performed. If so, I was considering taking that option at this point.

"I wouldn't expect you to know, of course, being from the Colonies," he said, rather casually, almost politely. I glimpsed a brief shade of the man that he once must have been; Severus had told me that he had presented himself as a romantic hero to women, many years previous. "But you should address me as either My Lord or Master."

_And there's always "Snake-Headed Asshole with Delusions of Grandeur," as I called you to Severus_, I thought, quickly. That was probably not a good idea. "Yes, er, my Lord." I sure wasn't going to say Master. No fucking way.

"I apologize, Master, for my wife's ignorance," said Walden. _Oh, screw you, you big galoot_, I thought, mutinously. _Who the fuck are __**you**__ calling ignorant, you stupid jock?_

"No matter, Macnair. Prepare her arm, would you?" answered Voldemort. Walden stepped behind me, pushed me (this time, gently) so I was uncomfortably close to the Dark Lord's upraised wand (which looked as if it was made of yew), turned my left arm so that the underside was facing upward, and pulled my robe sleeve down so that my forearm was visible.

"Now. You may be wondering if this will have an effect on your son, and I can assure you that it will not," the Dark Lord began. _Well, isn't __**that**__ nice_, I thought. _How about some other baby care tips, while I'm here?_

"Um. Thank you, my Lord," I said, as he paused, figuring I'd better say something. _Oh Erik, you were so right. Why didn't I listen to you?_ I thought.

"I certainly want him to remain well, so that he will take his place at my side, and at your husband's side, in our Inner Circle, when he comes of age," Voldemort continued. _Oh, let me tell you, that is the absolute last place he will ever be_, I thought. _If I have anything to do with it, that is. Don't listen, Evan_, I thought. _Don't listen to him, he's full of it!_

"Of course, my Lord," I said. "That is my fondest wish, Master," said Walden, unctuously. _Damn, who would have thought he was such a freaking toady? _I thought.

"Yes, my child, your husband is one of my most trusted confidants," said the Dark Lord. _Would you just go ahead and do the stupid tattoo or whatever already_, I thought. _The suspense is killing me_. "He is an integral part of my plans." _Let me guess—for world domination_, I thought. _You evil overlords are all alike_. "So it is particularly important for you to receive this mark. The snake, of course, is the symbol of Salazar Slytherin," he explained. "And the skull represents my victory over Death." _Put them together_, I thought, _and you get a design that is on the wall of every single god-damned tattoo shop in the entire Muggle world_, _but he probably doesn't know that_.

Walden held me tighter and I gritted my teeth. Voldemort chuckled, a sound that I never wanted to hear again. "Child, it won't hurt," he said, and then he intoned "MORSMORDRE!" He was right; it actually didn't hurt. I stared down at my arm. There it was…a truly hideous design of a skull and snake. It was outlined in black and looked just like Walden's; just like Lucius', just like Severus'.

"Now, that didn't hurt, of course. But, if you ever betray me, or any of my followers, I assure you that it will. And when they are Called, you will not feel it in the same way they do, but you will feel something. Enough to know where your husband is, should he not come home to you one evening," he said, with what I assumed was a smile. He bared his teeth, at least, and they were just as unappealing as the rest of him, and then he did one of those horrible chuckles, unfortunately.

Walden was still holding me rather tightly, and I felt him exhale slowly—the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as he did so. "Me sweet wife," he sighed, and I knew he was looking at my arm. That, however, did not explain (at least to me) the hardness that was presently jabbing into my back.

"If you wish to properly congratulate your wife, Macnair, by all means, do so," said the Dark Lord. "I'm afraid I can't join you at this time, however." _Oh Gods, oh no, no, please_. _Please let him be talking about something else, __**anything**__ else. But I know he isn't—and thank the Goddess for small favors_. "Thank you, Master, ye're verra generous," replied Walden. _Hello, isn't anyone going to ask MY opinion?_ I thought. _I'd like to go back to the other room now!_

So, I was humiliated in the gaze of the Dark Lord, who watched impassively, and listened, like me, to Walden's groans of pleasure and his murmured words of love. Those words sounded sour to my ears, and I knew that I'd never feel the same way about him again. After he finally finished, he straightened up our robes, the Dark Lord returned our masks to us, and we returned to our chairs in the main room, where we sat in silence until everyone in the circle had taken their turns.

* * *

The next morning, I woke up in the Malfoy Manor guest room, very early. I ran to the bathroom, as was my custom these days. Thankfully, the nausea was beginning to abate, although it was slowly being replaced with hungers for strange foods, which wasn't any more convenient. Walden was asleep and snoring loudly. I stared at him, lying there, one arm flung above his head, at his rumpled hair and neat mustache, and I hated everything about him. I glanced briefly at his axe, which was sitting (as it usually was on these post-Revel mornings) up against the wardrobe. I wondered if I had the strength to swing it, and what would happen if I did.

Instead of executing him, though, I got back in bed because I was very tired. I was wearing a long nightshirt, with long sleeves (as I had no desire to look at the Mark), and it took several agonizing minutes to get it arranged around my ungainly body. During these minutes, of course, Walden decided to wake up. Ugh. He had stayed up later than me with the rest of his cronies, after the Dark Lord had gone away into the back room. Possibly he was sleeping in there, if he actually slept.

Walden smelled like stale tobacco and stale Scotch, and sweat, and other things that I didn't want to think about. Perhaps there had been an orgy or something; I hadn't asked and I didn't want to know. "Lass, I'm going in for a bath," he said, yawning. I was very glad that I wasn't nauseous any more when the sour aroma wafted over toward me. "Yes, please do," I said, and then, because I didn't want to clue him in, I smiled (but not with my eyes).

"Indeed," he said, chuckling. "Would you like to join me?" _No, I was sort of hoping to chop off your head while you were in there_, I thought. But I didn't say that. I sat up and rearranged my nightshirt yet again.

"I think I will," I replied. Walden swung his legs over the side of the bed and the unmistakable pungent aroma of stale sex assaulted me. Why hadn't he done a Cleaning Charm, as he normally did? I must have made a face or something, because he asked, "What's the matter?" as he stood up and stretched. I saw scratch marks on his back. Great.

"What the _hell_ were you doing last night after I went to sleep?" I asked. OK, I didn't want him at this point, but I found the concept that he had been sleeping with others, especially after his little "performance" last night in front of the Dark Lord, a bit distasteful.

"It didna mean anything, lass, she was just a Muggle," he said. "I wasn't the only one with her. Lucius started it." _Like that makes it so much better,_ I thought. I remained silent. He held out his hand to help me from the bed and I refused it.

"Don't be this way, lass. I love ye, ye know that. It didna mean anything; it was like the Revels normally are!" He looked puzzled, as if he couldn't figure me out. "It's because ye're with child that ye're feeling this way. After ye eat something and take a bath, ye'll feel much better. Come along, now."

I just sat there. "I said, come along now! Doona be difficult _again_!" repeated Walden, in a slightly more annoyed voice.

"No," I responded. "Go on without me. I'm going to get dressed and Apparate back. I'll see you later."

"Ye most certainly willnae! Ye're me wife and ye're staying with me! Now get up and get in that bath with me now!" At this point, Walden was practically growling. "Ye slept with Snape at other Revels, and I said nothing! Get up, I said!" And he grabbed my arm and yanked me up.

"Put me DOWN!" I yelled. "STOP IT!"

"Get in there and shut it, woman!" And he shoved me toward the bathroom door as he barked this, not paying much attention to how hard he shoved or where exactly he shoved. His hand hit right in the part of my back that was aching, I fell off balance, and I hit the doorframe and collapsed to the floor. Evan began kicking frantically. I yelped as I hit the floor, and then burst into tears.

Shocked, Walden simply stood there, staring at what he had done. "Oh, lass," he said. "What have I done? I didna mean—"

"Go away!" I yelled. "Just go away!" And then I had a sudden, stabbing, cramping pain. "Oh Gods!" I screamed. "Aaaaaaaaaaah!"

Several knocks came at the door, first quiet and then loud, repeated and insistent. I heard the muffled voice of Lucius. "Walden! What is going on in there? Open the door!"

"Go away!" I yelled. Walden Summoned his robe from the wardrobe, shoved it over his head and strode toward the door. Just as he did, though, it flew open. Lucius, wearing a dressing gown and carrying his snake-headed cane, came through the door and closed it behind him.

"What the sodding _hell_ is going on here, Walden? Having a spot of trouble controlling yet another wife?" Lucius smirked.

"Lucius, we doona need yer assistance," began Walden. I groaned, as yet another cramp occurred. This was not good.

"I see. Moonchild, Walden didn't want to join in last night, if that's what concerns you. Our Lord made him do so." _Funny, I thought he had already left_, I thought. _Maybe he came back. Maybe I don't care_. I felt wetness between my thighs.

"Lucius, I merely fell down," I managed. "We had a slight disagreement and—and there was an accident." I put my hands protectively around my belly. Evan felt as if he was doing somersaults or something. Walden approached me, put his arms around my shoulders, and helped me to stand up. I felt dizzy.

"I think we'd better take you to St. Mungo's," said Lucius. "After all, you _are_ supposed to be a shining example of the future of the Wizarding World," he said, with another smirk. "Can't have any unseemly accidents blotting your record."

"Oh, cram it, Lucius," I said, as Walden helped me to the bed, where I sat down.

Lucius snickered and snapped his fingers. "Always charming, aren't you," he remarked, as he did so, and was instantly dressed in his usual finery. "I'll take her, Walden. Get yourself cleaned up and follow behind us." And then he conjured a stretcher, levitated me onto it, and Apparated us both to St. Mungo's.


	28. Chapter 28 – The Last Hurrah

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 28 – The Last Hurrah**

A week after The Incident (as I referred to it, in my mind), I was still in St. Mungo's. Evan, thankfully, was safe and sound, but the doctors felt that I could benefit from a bit of rest and relaxation. I agreed with them.

I had not told the doctors what had really happened that morning—I merely said that I had slipped and fallen on my way to the bathroom. Lucius, who waited with me until Walden arrived about half an hour later, did not contradict this story. The doctors administered calming potions to me, Evan eventually calmed down, the cramps abated, and that was that.

Mentally speaking, however, I was not at all healed. I stared around the room. There were lots of flowers. Walden's house-elf, Peppy, brought them every morning. And every evening, after he finished work at the Ministry, Walden visited. I spoke to him, but only in a very vague, polite fashion. He actually begged for my forgiveness. I told him that I forgave him, but I was fairly sure he could tell I was only paying him lip service.

He brought gifts, as well—a selection of the latest titles from Flourish & Blotts, expensive chocolates from a Diagon Alley confectionary, a silk lounging jacket…and just last night, he had brought a pair of emerald earrings. When visiting hours ended, he left, looking more and more disheartened each evening, as I continued to be vague and polite.

I had also received owls from Morgaine (a get-well card) and Inanna (a letter, with gossipy news of Salem, the Institute, and the store).

I heard a knock at the door and the nurse bustled in with my calming potion and a letter. I figured, the way things had been going, that I had better drink the potion first. After the nurse departed, I opened it.

_Dearest Rowan,_

_Morgaine told me what happened. I know that you were not telling the truth. I saw you the other evening, and I heard your thoughts. And one of the others told me what happened the morning after the Revel. This is what my warnings referred to. Things will get worse. You **must** get out as soon as possible._

_If things should escalate to a point of crisis, you have merely to put on the necklace and think of me, and I will come to you, wherever you are, and do my very best to aid you._

(I looked in the envelope and sure enough, the necklace—the same one I had worn for two years-was enclosed. I held it in my hand as I read the rest of the letter.)

I_ know that you are strong-willed, but I must urge you to take my advice in this matter, for your own safety as well as for that of your child._

_Yours,_

_Severus_

I used my wand, which was laying on the bedside table, to transfigure the letter and necklace into a pair of slippers, which I Banished into my overnight bag (which had been brought along by Walden on the day of The Incident). And I fervently hoped that I wouldn't forget that I had done so. Then I took a nap.

When I woke, it was to my mediwizard standing over me, with the nurse next to him. He informed me that when Walden arrived this evening, he could take me home, as he felt I had rested enough. I wanted to tell him that I hadn't rested nearly enough as I would like, but as I was still a bit groggy, I simply nodded and smiled, the very picture of domestic bliss. He finished with a cheery "See you at the end of October," and a wave.

Later, Walden turned up, this time with yet another box of chocolates. I told him what the doctor had said, and he seemed pleased. I smiled at him.

"Lass, I promise you that nothing like that will ever happen again," he began. I waved my hand in the air.

"No need to promise, you've done so enough," I said. "Come on, let's get out of here—chocolates are nice, but I miss the house-elves' cooking."

When we were back at the lodge, and I was ensconced in the bed in the upstairs bedroom, Walden rang for the elves and then climbed into bed beside me, heedless of his Ministry robes.

"Lass, what Lucius said was true; I had to join in that night. Ye must understand." _Oh yeah, I understand,_ I thought. _You have to join in the Death Eater reindeer games; otherwise, they'll make you the victim? Raping and killing Muggles is somehow meant to show off the glory of "our cause"? What a bunch of heroes I've managed to hook myself up with_. _I'm going to make sure that our son is never involved with this sort of demented crap, ever._

"What's there to understand? I took things the wrong way. Our conversation got out of hand. That's all." I said. _Yeah, and if you believe that, buddy, I've got a bridge to sell you. Do you have any spare Galleons?_

"Well, I'm glad you see things that way," he said. The elves walked in at just that moment and we spent several pleasurable minutes tucking away the food they had brought.

"I've already asked Lucius if we can be absent from the next Revel. He said that he can most likely arrange it with our Lord," said Walden, when he finally took a break from eating. "As I've got to take some time off from work for a…er…special project, it's just as well."

"That's good," I said. "I don't really want to buy another one of those god-awful maternity dress robes, anyway," I said, chuckling. "They're all hideous, and I feel as if I've gained a hundred pounds lying in that bed all week." I didn't bother to ask him what that 'special project' might be.

"I'm also glad to see your sense of humor's come back," remarked Walden. "I rather missed it, ye know." He moved closer to me and tentatively put an arm around me. "I missed ye, lass."

"I missed you, too, Walden," I said. _Yeah, like I miss having to pay Muggle income taxes and drive a car everywhere. _

He slowly kissed my neck, murmuring, "I love ye, lass." He slid his hands down and began to caress me. Just as he slid his hand over my belly (which had grown perceptibly larger in the last week), Evan kicked him. Or maybe he punched him, who knows?

"He kicked me!" he exclaimed.

"Just trying to say hello, I'd imagine," I said, chuckling.

"Hello, Evan, me son," he said, leaning over so that he was speaking directly to my belly. "I hope ye don't mind if I borrow ye mother for a bit," he added.

I laughed. "Not like he could stop you."

"Well, he is making things slightly difficult," Walden said, rolling me over so that I was on my side, with my back to him. "Lass, would you perform that charm you do, the one to remove our robes?" I snapped my fingers and we were instantly naked. I felt large and blobby. "Damn! I didn't want to do that," I said, whining a bit. "I look so horrible."

"Nay, you look beautiful," he said, caressing my back and sliding his hands down. "I want to take ye now," he groaned, as he slid two fingers inside me. It felt so good that I forgot everything for a moment—what he had done, his obvious brutality, his unredeemed nature. "Oh Walden," I sighed, in spite of myself.

"I'm going tae fill ye up with it," he groaned. "Yes," I said. "Oh, yes." He Summoned something from the bedside table, presumably lubricant, and then I felt him push into me. "Och, so tight," he groaned. He moved his fingers in time with the movements of his prick. "Oh Gods, Walden, yes!" I screamed, as I catapulted into my first orgasm. "Thinking of you sucking Lucius off," he murmured into my ear. "Sucking him, while I fuck your arse." And he began moving faster. The mental image made me come again around him. "He comes, and ye swallow it all down, everything he gives ye," continued Walden, his voice hoarse with passion, his breath hitching on some of the words. "Yes, oh yes," I moaned, tightening around him.

"My sweet lass," he murmured. "Our Lord wants to share ye with me as well…I've seen him, he lasts for hours," he gasped.

_Oh, DISGUSTING_, I thought. _There is just no way THAT is ever going to happen_. Hours? Oh, blech. And his "thing" probably looked like a snake or something. Ugh, ugh, double ugh. I was immediately out of the mood. Walden, however, didn't notice, and was still telling me his supposedly erotic story, clearly thinking that I was excited by it. What in the hell was the matter with him? Lucius was bad enough.

"Och lass, I spend and spend in you, and he's still going, so I take you again," and I felt all his muscles tense. "Sweet lass, I ride ye again, just as he comes, oh God, yes, just like that, yes….." and he groaned loudly, it was almost a growl, and I felt him shudder, and grip me tightly, and I couldn't help it, I came again, although certainly _not_ from what he was saying. After he recovered, he withdrew himself and did his usual Cleaning Charm. It was a shame that the charm didn't work on thoughts. Despite my horrible experiences with them, I was considering performing a Memory Charm on myself so that I'd forget what Walden had just suggested.

We lay there for a few minutes and then he got up and went to look for his Ministry robes. The charm was efficient—both his robes and my dressing gown were neatly folded in the chair next to our wardrobes. He nodded in satisfaction and then walked off to the bathroom. I, meanwhile, lay there, looking at the bed canopy over my head. I had to get out, and I had to get out soon, or else the fantasy Walden had described would almost certainly become reality. That could not happen. I was drawing a personal line in the sand, one that I would never cross.

When Walden returned, I Summoned my robe from the chair and a pair of slippers (not the Transfigured ones, of course) from the wardrobe and asked him if he wanted to go down and have a midnight snack. I had a sudden urge for smoked oysters and crackers. I was surprised that I could think of eating after that horrid experience, but hormones were powerful substances, and, as always, took precedence. Walden, of course, readily agreed, and after donning his lounging robe, accompanied me.

The next day, he told me that he'd be leaving for a while, for the special project he'd mentioned, and that he'd taken a leave of absence from the Ministry. The project had something to do with giants, and he couldn't tell me much more than that. I was not permitted to owl him, unfortunately, but he'd be able to visit from time to time.

* * *

It was just as well that he was absent, as August was hot and sticky and miserable and I didn't go outside much for the rest of it. I spent most of my days in the trophy room, occasionally Apparating to the barn to visit the Crups and Kneazles, whose very presence made me feel better. I'd also feed the horses while I was there. Walden had three, a stallion, a mare, and a foal (named Salazar, Rowena, and Circe). They were very gentle and placid, which was surprising considering their owner.

I had resigned myself to the fact that the Walden I had come to know, the one who had courted me attentively, and, to be honest, the one that I had fallen in love with (despite his many issues), was probably not ever coming back. From now on, he would inexorably be under the influence of his Dark Lord. _Perhaps if he had never joined the Death Eaters_, I thought, but that was a silly thought; I would have probably never had any reason to meet him, in that case. He would have worked for the Ministry, I imagine, maybe in the same department, maybe not—and without Fudge's and Lucius' powerful backing, he probably wouldn't have advanced very far. He would have had a respectable career, befitting his situation, and he would have eventually have retired to the family castle. (I had found out that his father had recently formally named him as his successor, and that was the reason he was permitted to use the title of Laird, on special occasions.)

So I would have stayed with Severus, probably, or perhaps I would have never had any reason to meet him, either—if he had not joined forces with Voldemort, he'd likely be in some magickal research facility somewhere, another place where I would have likely never visited.

_I had entirely too much free time these days_, I thought, and sighed. I was large, I ate a lot, I had to use the bathroom every five minutes, Evan was constantly rolling around and kicking me in the middle of the night. I was definitely not interested in approaching Walden at all, romantically; when he did come home for his brief visits, and on the rare occasions when we did have sex, he insisted on fantasizing about sharing me with the Dark Lord, which didn't help me enjoy things. Once, I even told him just to stop what he was doing and wank off. He seemed puzzled by this, but complied. Maybe he figured that it was my kink or something; I didn't care.

* * *

When the Dark Revel invitations arrived at the beginning of September for the Fall Equinox, I sent our regrets, as Walden was not home, and I really didn't want to face anyone.

* * *

Since I hadn't been going into town, I had no idea what was going on in the wizarding world. The _Daily Prophet_, which I read religiously each morning, right after the owl delivered it, was less than useless. No letters had arrived from anyone, and I was annoyed.

So, about a week before the Equinox, I decided to get my cumbersome ass into Hogsmeade. I Apparated directly in front of the store so as not to waste any time walking—seeing as how what I did these days was more waddling than anything else. Ducklike, I entered the store. Morgaine was behind the counter. She had been rather depressed since Mad-Eye Moody's disappearance after the Triwizard Tournament—a fact that had also not, like so many other bits of information, been reported in the _Prophet_. (I had started calling it as _The False Prophet_).

"Hello, Morgaine," I said, and she looked up at me.

"Oh, hello, Rowan," she replied, not sounding happy in the least.

"What's going on?" I walked up to the counter. She gestured for me to come around behind the counter, and I knew that whatever was wrong hadn't affected our friendship. She hugged me, which was an awkward task.

"Did you know that Hagrid hasn't come back to school this year?"

He'd been the first person I'd ever actually met at the school. I hadn't talked to him much in the ensuing years. I'd figured, considering everything, that he probably didn't want to see me at this point. "He hasn't?" I said, with some measure of panic. He was rather large, after all. Could this have something to do with Walden's mysterious errands to visit the giants?

"Yes. I normally see him in the Three Broomsticks, and he's not been in for months. So, I just asked Professor Sprout—she was just here. She said that the Headmaster told them that he was on a sabbatical, and might return after Christmas." She looked at me, as if I might know more. Since I really did not want to tell her the information that I did have, I simply shrugged and remarked, "A lot of odd things seem to be happening."

We talked a bit more after that, but I was distracted and Apparated back to the lodge about five minutes later. I had to get to those Transfigured slippers before Walden arrived home. I had placed a charm around them and I checked it; the slippers hadn't been touched. Glancing around nervously, I changed them back into Severus' letter and the pendant. I slipped the chain around my neck and held the pendant with my left hand. Nothing happened. I tried again. Again, nothing—not even any magical "white noise" in my mind. I took off the pendant and held it in my hand. It had worked, that night at Malfoy Manor, when I had given it back to him. Had it somehow become deactivated? What was going on? Was Hagrid's disappearance the beginning of a series of even more disturbing events?

I dropped the pendant into my robe pocket and walked out to the barn to play with the Crups and Kneazles for a while, hoping to clear my head. While I was there, I naturally had to use the bathroom. I was carrying some dog biscuits, so I pushed open the door to the tack room with my left hand, and that's when I looked clearly at the bracelet Walden had given me. It had become so much a part of my life that I almost didn't notice it. I very rarely took it off, but it had become slightly annoying lately, what with the horrible case of water retention that I had. However, it seemed to expand and contract magically to accommodate it, eventually.

What if that wasn't the only magical property with which it was imbued? What if Mr. O's warning to "check the bracelet" had meant something other than to assess its value? I had asked Walden if it had been charmed; he had replied that it wasn't, I thought. But he certainly could have lied. I hadn't shown it to Auror Silverman, either, who could have checked it. As he was working specifically on breaking Lucius Malfoy's Imperius curse, perhaps the effect of the bracelet would have eluded him. Or perhaps it, too, was subtle, and worked slowly, over time.

I looked up at the clock on the wall in the tack room. 2 pm. Enough time to go back to Hogsmeade and do what I needed to do.

* * *

The next day, I sat in the Three Broomsticks, in a private room. At 1:00, Rosmerta knocked at the door. Behind her was Professor Flitwick.

"Well, well. I didn't think any of us would ever see you again, Rowan," he said, not unkindly.

"Professor, I know you may have heard some things, and I don't have time to contradict any of them," I said. "But believe me when I tell you that this favor I am asking is…well, rather necessary to assist Professor Snape." _Well, sort of_, I thought.

"Call me Filius, my dear. When you get to be my age, you realize that most gossip is a waste of time," he replied, in his squeaky voice. It was hard to believe that he was a dueling champion, but Severus had told me some stories.

"Anyway. Could you please check this for me?" I unhooked Walden's bracelet and handed it to him. The minute I did, I was overcome, and had to sit down. Hmm.

"My goodness! Oh my, oh dear," he said. "I think I'd better let you see this for yourself," he said. "Hold the bracelet in your left hand." After I did, he tapped it with his wand. A scene appeared in my mind. An altar, decorated with red and black candles, in front of which was a High Priestess, performing some sort of spell on the bracelet. I don't know how I knew, but I knew this was Walden's relative; one of those who he had said practiced "religious witchcraft." If so, she was definitely not walking on the same side of the street I had walked while in Salem. She was talking to someone, asking a question, "Do you truly want this woman, my cousin? Do you desire her with all your heart and soul?" I heard the answer, "Aye, I desire her; I want her bound to me forever!" It was Walden, and then I saw him approach the altar, wearing his Death Eater robe, which he opened, to reveal his naked form. The Priestess said, "Then shall you make a sacrifice of your life fluids here!" He stroked himself to orgasm—he called out my name as he hit his peak and covered the bracelet with his come, and then picked up a knife from the altar, cut his arm, and dripped blood onto the bracelet.

I had seen enough.

"OK, Professor—I mean, um, Filius, you can make it stop now!" I said.

"Of course, my dear," he said. "Did that answer your question?" _Yeah, and probably some of yours, too_, I thought.

"Well, sort of. Would you refer to that as a charm?" I was trying to remember exactly what Walden had said about it when I asked him. Something about how he hadn't charmed it, I think. Well, I suppose he hadn't, technically.

"Well, technically I wouldn't," he said. "That looked to me like old magick, binding magick. Pictish, I think," he said. "It's not anything like we do today."

Walden had not lied, I thought, he just hadn't been completely truthful. What had I expected from a gift such as that—a bracelet with a snake on it, given to me by a Slytherin. And the stupid ass had done the kind of love magick on it that we, at the Institute, had repeatedly warned our first year students against! And, according to what I'd seen, he did honestly care about me; although that wasn't the kind of love I wanted. I searched my mind. Did I love him, right this moment, the bracelet removed, with full knowledge of what he had done to acquire me?

Not exactly, but I wasn't sure if that had to do with everything else, or what I had seen. Nevertheless, it did explain a lot.

"Thank you, Filius," I said. "Would you like a drink? Or, er, do I need to pay you, or…"

"That won't be necessary; I was happy to help you," and with a nod and a wink, he Disapparated, presumably to the Hogwarts gates. After I paid Rosmerta for the lunch I'd had earlier, I Disapparated back to the lodge.


	29. Chapter 29 - And When the Sky Was Opened

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is most DEFINITELY for adults. See Chapter 1 for an explanation and synopsis of the Story So Far.

**DATE WITH AN EXECUTIONER  
Chapter 29 – And When the Sky Was Opened**

I continued to wear the bracelet, but only after I had done a little bit of my own magick on it. Walden and his cousin had made a mistake; they were playing on my turf. I may not have been a dueling expert or a Dark Arts prodigy, but I certainly did know how to combat manipulative earth-based magick.

Other than that, the last month of my pregnancy passed without much incident. Walden arranged to have his mother, daughter, and sisters stay at the lodge starting the first week of October, as he was still off on his errand. As near as I could tell, Evan was going to be arriving around the middle of the month. We played a lot of chess in the trophy room, I read more books, we all ate voraciously, and not a lot happened until that week.

I did get an overpowering urge to rearrange all of my clothing and books. I read, in one of the pregnancy books that Walden's mother brought for me that this urge was called "nesting," and was normal. Instead of doing so, though, I shrunk everything down and Transfigured some pieces of wood I had found out behind the barn into replicas of my things. My real belongings, of course, were still packed in a suitcase, and could be grabbed at a moment's notice. However, in order to avoid the horrific assignation that Walden had planned, I was prepared to leave all of my things behind, if necessary.

On October 15, 1995, somewhere around noon, as I was heading downstairs to get some lunch, my water broke, and Walden's mother took me to St. Mungo's, his daughter and sisters having left the lodge that day to go on a shopping excursion to Diagon Alley. That evening, at 5:30, with Walden and his mother and father in attendance, Evan Allister Macnair, 9 lbs., 3 oz., blue eyes, black hair, and looking (even at birth) much like his father, was born.

Before I left St. Mungo's, Walden and I filled out all sorts of papers, including something having to do with Hogwarts, although I was in a pain-potion-induced haze and don't recall exactly what it said. He also had me interview several nannies, none of which I liked.

And thus, we went home, now a family, although I knew in my heart that we wouldn't be one for very long.

* * *

I was actually feeling fairly good on the morning of the 31st. Each day, a bit of my former personality seemed to return. I hadn't had any post-partum blues or other complaints, thanks to the recipes that I had learned at the Institute.

We were sitting in the kitchen—Walden was holding Evan and burping him. He was surprisingly gentle with the baby, and Evan never cried when he held him. Walden's mother was on her way to baby-sit; we were going to attend the Revel. I knew, somehow, that a Samhain revel, with the Dark Lord in attendance, probably wasn't going to be full of sweetness and light. But, in order to allay suspicion, I had decided to go, especially since I hadn't been allowed a moment to myself over the last month. Walden's errand had successfully ended, so he was home for good, and he hadn't yet returned to the Ministry.

I was even able to fit into one of my old dress robes (I had unpacked it, as the Transfigured version of it was most likely too unstable for an entire evening's wear).

"Let go of my finger, son!" said Walden. "I'm going to need it tonight," he said, looking at me with a leer.

I winked at him. "Here, let me take him," I said. "It looks like he's left a mark on your robes."

"Damn!" Walden stood up, handed me Evan, and then reached behind himself with his wand and uttered a Cleaning Charm. "So, lass, are ye up for a bit of fun at the Revel tonight, or do ye want to sit this one out?"

"Oh, I don't know," I said. "I thought I'd see how I was feeling later."

"Well, I'd like it if you'd come with me to the Main Revel," he said. "This one's important."

_What a surprise, _I thought._ A celebration of death. Of course he'd think that was 'fun'._ "Oh?" I asked, as I stroked Evan's tiny back. Actually, he wasn't that tiny—he seemed to have already doubled in size and weight, although I didn't know how that was possible. "Well, if you want," I said.

"I want," he responded. "In fact, I wish my mum would hurry up so I could take you upstairs," he said. Just then, I heard the sound of house-elf feet running, and said, "I think she's here."

"Good," he said.

A few minutes later, his mother ensconced in the downstairs guestroom with Evan, we Apparated upstairs. Walden grabbed me and threw me on the bed the minute he closed and charmed the door. Although I had essentially broken the bracelet's binding spell, my body still responded to him, and thus I found myself impaled on him, writhing and moaning, as he thrust into me from behind. It was the first time that I had felt ready for any sort of amorous activity since the birth.

"Och lass," groaned Walden. "I canna hold back," and with three last thrusts, he was spent and shuddering. I hadn't even had the chance to have one orgasm. Great. As he recovered, he turned me over and took me in his arms.

"I'll make it up to ye tonight, lass. I havena taken any pleasure since we were together last," he said.

I looked at him quizzically. I suppose I _had_ idly wondered if there had been any extra-curricular activities during his sabbatical with the giants. "I dinna want to take anyone but ye, lass. I told Lucius I willna participate in that sort of thing again," he said. "Ye're the only one I truly want."

Yeah, I had seen exactly how much he wanted me, I thought. "Yes, I know," I said. And then I made a mistake—I glanced at the bracelet. He saw me.

"So ye know about the bracelet," he said. "How did ye find out?"

"Walden, that's the kind of magick that I learned at the Institute," I said. Well, sort of. He didn't need to know about the crystal healing and the Native American rituals, I thought. Right now, they were as irrelevant as my Muggle computer skills. "Did you think I'd never be able to tell?"

"Did ye know before we were married, lass?" he asked.

"Well, not exactly," I said. "I assume that sealed the bond?"

"Aye," he said. "My cousin and I did the ceremony a year ago. I did it because I love ye, and I didn't want Lucius to have you—not to mention Snape," he said, with a grimace.

"Walden, that kind of magick is wrong," I said. "Interfering with another person's Will is wrong!"

"Lass, how is it wrong? Ye desired me, I know ye did. I could tell you did that night when I brought you here. And for Salazar's sake, do you actually think there's a right and wrong when it comes to magick?" he asked, sitting up. "What kind of a Dark witch are ye?"

"I'm not," I said. "I'm _not_ Dark. I've told you that before!"

"Well, lass, whether ye say ye are or not…ye have the Master's Mark on your arm. In fact, the Master's going to initiate all of you wives, come the New Year," he said.

"No!" I said. "Please tell me that he doesn't think the New Year begins tonight," I added.

"In the Celtic calendar, it does, but he follows the Roman one," Walden said. "I have no idea why. So, February it'll be. I'll be happy to have ye by my side," he mused. "Ye've never felt such power. Ye can come with me ta the meetings then, and when we go on raids."

"I don't want to do it," I said. "I _won't_ do it." Meetings? Raids? Was he serious? As I had said that long-ago evening with Severus, "_what girl wouldn't be swayed by all that super-romantic Death Eater stuff_"? Perhaps there were some who would.

"Ye _will_, though. In the initiation, all of us will take ye—I'm not sure if I like that idea, but that's the way it's done." _It is?_ I thought. I looked at him strangely.

"Doesn't that contradict what you just said?" I asked. I was curious in spite of myself.

"This is different, lass. And it's nae the same way for wizards," he said. "I told ye, there've only been two female Knights. I was there when both were initiated." He paused for a moment, and Summoned a bottle of Scotch from the bedside table, poured himself a drink, and then sent the bottle flying back. He then Summoned a bottle of mead. "Snape was there, too, of course, and Lucius. Funny, he's been around quite a bit lately," and he smirked.

"Who, Lucius? The meetings are all at his house, aren't they? Why wouldn't he be there?" I accepted the glass of mead that he poured for me.

"No, the greasy bastard. Scared, I expect…our Lord accepted him back, ye know; he believed his stories, but I still doona trust him," he said. "Shall we go in for our bath? Lucius asked us if we could get to the Manor a bit early. We can just Apparate, if ye doona mind," he said.

* * *

On the Monday morning after the Revel, I sat at breakfast with Walden's mother, sipping my tea silently. He'd been Called, somewhere, at least that's what I'd thought he'd said when he Apparated away the previous evening. I did not actually care where he'd gone.

I don't think I'll ever be able to fully describe that night, nor do I ever really want to. I moved my memories into a bottle the minute we got back, privately, so that Walden wouldn't see what I was doing. The Main Revel had been completely horrifying and unrecognizable from what it had been earlier that year. Toward the end, I moved toward the back of the crowd and attempted to leave the room, but the door was completely blocked with physical locks and wards that I'd never seen before. I fell to the floor, pounding on the door ineffectively, and began sobbing in frustration. That's when Walden found me and laughed, and cast Imperio, and took me over to the Dark Lord, who was waiting for me. It seemed that he had gotten over whatever sort of dysfunction he had the last time we had met, or so he said. He, Walden and I then went into the same back room where I had received my Mark. And what Walden had said was true; he could indeed last for hours.

I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to wash it off—the blood that Walden had smeared on me, the guilt that I had been a participant in the ritual, the horror at what had been done. They were planning to take over the Ministry and eventually attack Hogwarts. About the only good thing I could see coming out of all of the previous months is that maybe I'd have some useful information that would help to defeat the Dark forces.

I shuddered. Walden's mother had finished her breakfast and left, somehow knowing that I didn't want to talk that morning, and was downstairs packing. Evan lay sleeping in his bassinet next to me. I heard footsteps on the stairs, and shortly afterward, his mother entered the room.

"Rowan, I'm going to leave now, are ye doing all right?" his mother asked. She looked at me rather oddly, almost as if she knew what was going on.

"Oh, yes," I said. _I will be soon_, I thought.

"Er, perhaps ye and my son should, er, get away for a while," she said. "A holiday. We'd watch Evan for ye," she said.

"I'll think about it," I said.

"Och, well, see you later, then. Give my best to my son, would ye?" And with a pop, she Apparated.

And with that, I stood up and walked to my wardrobe and pulled out my suitcase, the Transfigured one that contained all my belongings. I opened Walden's wardrobe and withdrew his tartan robe, and wrapped Evan in it. One day, I wanted to explain his heritage to him. After shrinking the suitcase and putting it in my robe pocket, I walked downstairs to the kitchen.

Walden was sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his hands.

"Ye're leavin', aren't ye?" he said, without looking up. "Ye should go as soon as ye can."

"I am," I said, holding Evan as close to me as I could. "I thought you were, er, off with, er, you know…" _You-Know-Who,_ I thought. Most folks called him that. Or _He Who Shall Not Be Named_. I preferred to not think about him at all if possible.

Walden sat up. His hair was disheveled and his face was streaked with grime. "I was. I had tae go do a job…and there was a fight. I was Stunned, and when I came to," he began, and then paused, "…I just knew. It just came tae me that ye were goin'. So I came back, but I canna stay for long. Will ye let me say goodbye to him?" he asked.

"It doesn't have to be goodbye," I said. "You could come with us. You'd be protected."

"I canna go. I am in too deep. And I doona want to know where ye're going…doona tell me. He'd ask me, and then he'll find the both of ye, and…" No need to ask what he meant. Walden reached out his arms for Evan and I handed him over. "Son, I love ye," he said, as he hugged him. "Take care of him well, me lass," he said. "Can I send anythin' with ye…some Galleons? Anythin' at all?"

"You don't need to. It would probably be better if you didn't."

"Aye," he said, and he kissed Evan's head and handed him back to me.

I stood there, awkwardly. This had not gone the way I'd imagined. Was Walden trying to say he'd been Imperiused, possibly ever since June? I didn't know.

He finally broke the silence. "Ye'll have ta Obliviate me. Step out o' the room and do it behind me back. And make it a good one," he added. He put his head back down in his hands and his shoulders shook. "_**Do it, lass**_," he growled, as his voice broke.

I shifted Evan to the left side and held up my wand. _Oh, I could make it a good one, all right. I'd had lots of practical examples_. I backed out of the door into the mud room to the furthest point where I could still glimpse Walden, who, by this point, had completely broken down and was banging his fists on the table. I opened the back door far enough to get through.

"**OBLIVIATE**," I shouted, and once I saw the spell hit I ran out the door, closed it firmly with my wand), and then ran out past the barn, up the bridle path, to a glade that I knew (from prior scanning of the area) was just past the wards that Walden had set up around his property. Through all this, Evan gurgled happily, apparently not picking up on any of my dismay. Maybe the spell had rebounded on him. I couldn't worry about that now, because I heard, very clearly, the back door bang open and the pounding of heavy footsteps.

I reached in my robe pocket and pulled out the Transfigured package that Erik had given me back in February on that night at the Institute. As Walden's footsteps got closer, I changed it back to its proper form-a small box—and then I opened it, and looked inside. The special Auror's Portkey turned out to be a miniature New York Yankee baseball cap. I chuckled at this.

And then I grabbed it.

**THE END**

* * *

The title of this chapter was inspired by an excellent old "Twilight Zone" episode.


End file.
